An Ounce of Courage
by nightmares06
Summary: A girl goes missing from Indiana while on the phone with her sister, screaming about giant, killer cats. Now Dean and Sam have to unravel this mystery before Dean's next on the menu! The story takes place after Season 4 Episode 11: Family Remains. A size!fic. Rated T for mild gore and cursing. Off screen character death.
1. On the Case

_**Greencastle, Indiana**_

Running. Always running.

Ever since waking up five minutes ago, running had been the only thing she'd been able to do. Surrounded by grass that looked straight out of Jurassic Park, she hadn't slowed down yet. If she did, she was dead. She could hear in the back of her mind _Don't go into the long grass!_ echoing through her thoughts. Which raised a good question. What do you do if you woke up in the long grass? It's not like she'd come here on purpose!

She found herself briefly wishing she could watch that movie again. One more time. It was good.

If only she hadn't picked up that damn ring. It had shown up out of nowhere on her table, and she'd picked it up simply out of curiosity. Where had it come from? Was there someone in her house?

Deep inside, she had been hoping that it had been a surprise engagement ring from the man she'd been seeing over the last three years. He seemed to be building up to it slowly, asking her about what she wanted in the future, telling her his dreams and sharing in hers. She got a warm feeling inside whenever he came over. The last half of the year she felt like he'd wanted to ask her something important, and her mind leaped to engagement the second she laid eyes on the beautiful golden ring.

It had three sections, two bands of gold twisting around a central band of diamonds in the middle. She had never seen such a beautifully crafted piece of jewelry, and her heart raced that it might have been made just for her.

The second she'd picked it up though, she was hurled through the air, the ring appearing on her finger as though by magic. The last she heard was "You'll never take him from me!" right before she'd been slammed into the wall, blacking out.

And she'd woken to a nightmare.

She heard it closing in, each moment bringing her closer to her doom. Cursing, she grabbed her pink flip-phone out of her pocket. She'd forgotten that she'd picked it up before going into the dining room. Trying to dial while running at breakneck speeds ended up being one of the hardest things she'd ever done. She finally managed to get her sister's number up on the phone and hit the call button.

_Ring._

_Ring..._

"Please, please... pick up," she prayed under her breath. Spotting a tree up ahead, she dove under lower hanging branches, hoping to shake her pursuit, hiding in the brush. She ducked down. She could still hear it crashing around outside of the branches, searching for her.

_"Hello?"_ A voice came over the phone.

"JENNY!" Gasping for breath, she dared to peer out of the brush. A massive paw swiped at her past the branches, black as night. A sharp claw snagged her arm, slashing straight through her jacket to the bone.

_"Katie, is everything alright? Where are you?"_

Choking on her own breath, she managed to get out, "I don't know, all I can see is grass and trees. The grass... it's taller than me! It's after me, I can't get away!"

_"What's after you? The grass?"_

"I dunno what it is," she whimpered, closing her eyes as it clawed at her legs. She grabbed onto the branch next to her head, trying to pull herself farther in, away from the claws and the creatures piercing eyes. The two toned eyes seemed to peer into her soul. She reached the trunk of the tree, grabbing a branch and hauling herself away from the ground. Maybe if she could get high enough...

_"Did you call 911?"_

"It's... it's a cat, I think." She cried out again when it caught her leg, pulling her from the branch. It crept farther into the darkness of the tree, looming over her. "It's bigger than the house. Jenny! Help-" The phone fell from her hand when the creature pushed down with its paw. She screamed.

_"...What? Katie, where are you?_

_"Katie? Answer me!"_

_"KATIE!"_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Stratton, Nebraska<strong>_

On a rare morning without a job, Dean Winchester found himself sitting outside, reading the newspaper and drinking coffee. These occasions were so few and far between these days, they were supposed to be savored. Trying to stop the apocalypse from happening was incredibly consuming, taking up his and Sam's lives completely these days.

Yet here he was, no signs or omens or portents being reported, no seals breaking. The angels were quiet for the first time in months. He supposed they were busy being led on a merry chase by Anna, whom he'd helped escape from them right before their last case. He enjoyed the idea of Uriel on a wild goose chase, but felt bad for Castiel. The nerdy little angel actually seemed to care about the humans he was helping out. Uriel on the other hand seemed to only think about what he could smite next.

It was just so damn peaceful he didn't know what to do with himself. He hated every second of it.

Give him a case over this peace and quiet any day.

Their last job was finished, on a partially bad note. They'd saved the son, but not before the uncle had been killed by the crazy psycho bitch. And Dean couldn't help but compare himself to those shut in children, who'd never seen the sun and never known love or family. Raised like wild animals, they'd acted the same way. He hadn't been raised that way, but given the chance in hell, he'd become worse. His stomach tightened at the memories that thought brought back to him. Desperate for a distraction from these thoughts, he turned back to the newspaper he'd been combing for a job. He just needed to keep going, keep his head down and do the job the way Dad had taught him.

He hadn't seen Sam yet that morning. The kid was probably off running or some other fitness crap. Sam was becoming more of a health nut every day. Dean couldn't imagine giving up his bacon cheeseburgers for the health shakes he saw his brother eating on a regular basis. Gross.

So far that morning nothing in the newspaper had jumped out as a possible job. All he'd seen so far was the normal murder and disappearances. Nothing dark or shady going on, suspects already found for all of them. There were a few missing people reports as well, nothing outside of the normal for the area. He sighed, pushing away the paper. Was it so bad to hope for another job so soon? Anything to keep his mind off his memories from hell… and think about what he'd told Sam after their last job...

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't hear Sam coming up behind him until his kid brother dropped his laptop in front of Dean and sat down in one of the seats, arms crossed. Dean glanced up from his coffee. "What, no hello?"

Sam threw a bitchface Dean's way at the attitude. "Thought you'd be happy. I found us a case."

"Hmm?" Dean leaned forward, eagerly scanning the page the laptop was on quickly. If he had a case to distract himself from what a failure he was these days...

"So, in the article, a girl disappeared out of Greencastle, Indiana yesterday afternoon. No sign of a struggle, no signs of abduction, and her car is still at the house." Sam said while Dean was reading through.

"Yeah, so? Girls disappear all the time. Doesn't mean it's our kind of thing. For all we know she could have gone on a hike cross country." Dean was still scrolling skeptically though the article, doubtful that finding a job would be this easy. He skimmed the paragraphs briefly.

Sam continued on while his brother was reading through the information. "Well, just wait till you get to the bottom. She was on the phone with her sister right when she disappeared. Her sister heard everything up until the phone call was dropped. And her sister - Jenny - said that right before the call cut out, she was screaming that she was being attacked by a cat." He met Dean's surprised look at this.

Dean arched his eyes skeptically at Sam. "Killer cat? Did a tiger escape from the zoo?"

Sam leaned over and grabbed the laptop from Dean. He scrolled to the bottom of the article. "A killer kitty the size of a _house_."

Dean stared at the screen. "She's sure that's what she heard?"

"Yup."

"Sounds like our kinda thing."

"Yup."

Dean grinned. "What are we waiting for? We can be there by tomorrow." He grabbed his coffee and newspaper and was halfway to the Impala before Sam could grab his laptop to follow.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Greencastle, Indiana<strong>_

"Hello, I'm Special Agent Osborne, this is my partner, Special Agent Wylde. We were hoping to ask you a few questions about your sister's disappearance the other day."

The small redhead glanced up at the two men standing next to her table. She seemed to be in fairly good condition from what Sam could see, all things considered. The girl put down the tissue she'd been wiping her eyes with and gave Dean a glare.

"Haven't I answered enough questions today? Why does the FBI care about what happened to my sister?" She turned away from the brothers, blowing her nose angrily.

Sam stepped in before Dean could upset the girl more. Sometimes he couldn't figure out how his brother managed to piss off people so quickly. It was practically his special talent. Luckily for Dean, Sam had much better 'people skills.' Sam had no idea what Dean would do without him sometimes.

"Ma'am, we just want to help. If there's anything you can tell us about how your sister disappeared, anything at all..."

She met his eyes uncertainly. Long wet trails down her cheeks reflected in the sunlight. Sam reached forward, gently taking her free hand in his. He gave her his most sympathetic expression, vaguely away that Dean had quietly left the two of them alone. _Probably for the best,_ Sam thought, amused by his brothers continued aversion to anything approaching 'touchy, feely crap.'

After a long, thoughtful silence, she began to speak. "I can't tell you much more than the police can. I know that she went home. After that, I got the call a few hours later. She was so... scared. I've never heard her sound more terrified. Nothing made sense!" She gave a gasp, losing her voice to hiccups. She buried her head back in the tissue.

Sam gave her a few moments to recover. His heart went out to the poor girl, having to listen to her sister right before she disappeared, or died. He knew how it felt to go through such a traumatic experience. It wasn't something that you could just get over.

Finally catching her breath again, she started talking again. "She said... she said she was surrounded by grass as tall as she was. Maybe... some kind of field somewhere. And there was something after her. I heard her scream. I think she dropped the phone then, because she stopped answering me. But I could hear..." She closed her eyes, scrunching them shut determinedly. "It sounded like something was tearing her apart..." She reopened her eyes, catching Sam's gaze. "And that's not the strangest part."

"What is?"

"The police, they tracked her cell phone's GPS signal for the hour before she stopped answering my calls." She stared down at the table, fiddling with her tissue. "It never left her backyard. They said it still reads that it's coming from there, but they looked all over. There was NOTHING! No cell phone, no signs of a struggle, nothing that says she was ever there." She resumed crying, sniffling into her tissue.

Sam let her hand go, and wrapped his arm around her shoulder to give her a little comfort. "We're going to do everything we can to find her. You have my word."

He met Dean outside of the little café she was sitting in. Dean was leaning against a lamppost, hands stuffed into his pockets, looking casual.

"So, anything new?" Dean asked as they walked back to the Impala.

"Yea, actually." Sam put his hand on the driver's side door handle and glanced over the roof of the car at his older brother. "The girls' cell phone is still active, and the cops tracked the GPS signal back to her house. Out in the yard, actually. They found nothing there."

Dean gave a smile at that. "Sounds like the place to be is at her house."

Sam opened the door. "What are you waiting for, then?" He hid a grin at Dean's disgruntled look as he got in and started up the car.


	2. A Rude Awakening

Dean climbed out of the Impala when they finally reached the house. It was an old, Victorian style home. The front of the house was surrounded by manicured shrubbery, trimmed to perfection. Past them was a small garden of flowers, in the full bloom of spring with daffodils, daisies, tulips and even a few sunflowers standing tall over the rest of the garden. Everything was so calm and peaceful, it didn't seem a likely place for a woman to disappear.

He glanced over at Sam. "So, I was thinking we could try calling the girls cell phone, see if we can hear where it's stashed away. Might give us a good starting point."

Sam got out of the car, sticking the keys in his pocket. "Yeah, sounds like as good a place as any. I'm gonna grab the EMF meter too. See if there's anything lurking around out of sight."

"Sounds like a plan."

They went up to the house together, Dean covering Sam while he picked the lock to get in. The street the house was on was fairly deserted, with only three other houses anywhere near, and each of those was out of sight from their current position. The trees in the area were thick, with the underbrush keeping the view from each house limited. Still, he knew from experience though that letting your guard down at any time would just get you in a world of hurt.

He heard the door lock catch, and slipped in behind Sam. The door closed quietly behind them. The house hadn't been touched yet by the family, since she had only disappeared the other day, everything left alone for the police to investigate. The cops didn't think it was the scene of a crime yet, luckily, since there was no sign of anything out of place. No signs of any struggle either. It was becoming more and more likely it was their kind of thing. A lot of times ghosts left no traces. Not even a drop of blood. So no one was watching the place, and it wasn't sealed up.

Past the entranceway hall, they found themselves in a large dining room. There was a large, sturdy table in the center, with the dishes from the dinner she'd been preparing still sitting there from before her vanishing. Large cabinets lined the opposite wall from them, washcloths draped across the top. From the look of things, she had been cleaning the house while she was cooking. Sam pulled out the EMF meter and started scanning. Aside from a few low level blips, there was nothing to indicate the presence of anything supernatural.

They made their way through the house to the backyard. Standing on the porch, Dean surveyed the yard for any apparent threats (giant, house sized kitties among them) before they stepped down the stairs to a small stone pathway. He noticed some construction tape out of the corner of his eye.

Distracted, Dean glanced over at the pool. "What's going on over there?"

Sam followed his gaze. "Oh, she was working on an addition to the house."

Between the house and the pool was a small area that was dug up. A tall oak tree stood in the middle of the mess, cordoned off from the rest of the lawn. It was most likely the next part to go.

"What are they adding on?" Dean asked. "Does this house really need to be any bigger?"

"Sunroom."

"Yeah, totally needed." Dean grabbed his phone, focusing back on the job and pulled up Katie's number to track the GPS signal. He called out to Sam, "signals coming from outside, in the backyard." He lead the way down the porch stairs, to a fenced off area. "Man, this girl was living the life."

The yard was large, slightly overgrown grass growing throughout the entire area. Thick bushes in the center of the yard framed a small pathway from the porch to the trees, and to the far end of the yard there was a sparkling in ground pool.

Sam continued scanning the yard without any success. "This disappearance, it happened during the day, right?"

Dean glanced up from his phone, "yeah, around 5pm according to the timing of the call. Sun was still up."

"So if there's anything here, it _should_ show. Unlike those ghosts in the asylum who only showed up on the meter at night."

"Yeah, you would think." Dean walked over to the pathway. "This is where her cell signal is coming from. I'm gonna try calling it now." He punched in the number they'd grabbed from the police (one of the only useful facts they'd been able to get from them) and waited for it to start ringing.

Sam wandered around the backyard while Dean was waiting for the call to connect, scanning the rest of the area. He made his way back over to his brother when nothing turned up on the meter. They both waited in silence.

"Got it," Dean said when his phone connected, a ringtone coming over the speaker. "Hear anything?" He pulled the phone away from his ear so he could listen for the girls' ringtone. There was nothing... and then he became aware of a tiny sound, at the very edge of hearing.

"Yeah," Sam said, concentrating. "But barely..." He walked around, trying to see if it got louder anywhere.

Dean examined the ground, checking to see if there was any sign of the phone. Every direction he walked away from the beginning of the path, the sound got softer. "Weird..." he muttered, watching as the call switched to voicemail. He went back over to where he'd heard it strongest. "Maybe it's underground?"

"I don't remember seeing any tunnels in this area, though. And the septic system for the house isn't near this part of the yard."

Dean stared at Sam. "Ok, random."

Sam shrugged. "I wanted to be prepared."

Dean knelt down, looking around the bushes lining the pathway. All he could see was markings from some animals on the ground, no sign of the phone or any footprints from the girl. He brushed his hand lightly over the soil underneath the closest bush to where the sound was loudest to see if it had been dug up recently, to check if maybe the phone had been buried. All he found was solid ground though, roots in the soil intact and dirt well packed in. There were no signs of any digging at all.

He gazed up at the house. "Well, let's check out the rest of the home, give it a good once-over. We still have a day before the girls phone should run out of juice, so we'll come back and check it out again later."

They walked back up the stairs into the house. The hunters separated, Sam heading up to the second floor to see if the EMF meter would pick up anything up there and Dean staying on the ground floor to check and see if they'd missed anything. He heard the stairs creak under Sam's heavy footfalls. Dean went through the main floors rooms slowly, making sure that he didn't miss anything. Nothing on that floor jumped out at him though. Nothing was out of place, everything was neat and orderly. The house was so clean it bordered on creepy.

He found himself back in the dining room, after sweeping the entire ground floor. Nothing. No entrance to any downstairs tunnels, nothing out of place. Just the girls' dinner set up on the table. Dean did a double take. Next to the girls' dishes was a ring, sitting where he could have sworn there was nothing a moment before. Suspiciously he walked over to the table, looking around to see if anything else had changed. "Sam?" He called out, wondering if his brother had put it there. But he hadn't heard Sam come down the stairs since they started. The house being so old, it was hard to walk quietly, each footstep causing a series of creaks. There was no way he wouldn't have heard his sasquatch brother coming.

Wondering if maybe he'd just not noticed the ring the first time they'd come through, he leaned down, giving it a close look. It had the appearance of an engagement ring, double gold bands wrapping around a center band of diamonds. _I don't remember seeing anything in the news article about this girl being engaged or having a fiancé. Her sister only mentioned a boyfriend in her report..._ He searched around the room warily, then reached for the ring, curious if there was anything on the inside of the band that would tell him where it was from or who it belonged too.

The second his fingers touched the ring, the lights in the room flickered. Dean jumped back in surprise, pulling his sawed off shotgun out of his jacket when a woman appeared across the table from him, flickering in the daylight and screeching "Never, you'll never have him! He's MINE!" At this last word, she angrily thrust her arms toward him, and he was slammed backwards into the air, shoulder ramming into the glass on the door of the cabinet behind him. The last thing he remembered thinking before blacking out was how strange it was the glass didn't shatter when he hit. He'd been tossed into a lot of glass in his life, and the glass _always_ shattered. Everything after that last moment of clarity was pain and blackness.

* * *

><p>Upstairs, Sam was having no more luck than Dean was. Nothing was out of place in any of the bedrooms, and he was finishing in the main bathroom right when he heard a commotion downstairs. A screeching voice was yelling out, but he couldn't make out any of the words. Poking his head out the door, he called out, "Dean? Is that you?" There was no response to his call, the words falling on dead air.<p>

Feeling a strand of worry worming in his gut, he went back over to the stairs, pulling out his salt gun. Standing at the top of the stairs, he leaned around to see if he could catch sight of anything downstairs. Nothing. He held his gun at the ready and slowly crept down, hunting senses at the ready, listening for anything else. "Dean?" He called out, getting more concerned when he still heard nothing from his brother.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he heard a buzzing noise from his jacket. He pulled out the EMF meter and was shocked to see that it was reacting to something in the house. He felt his distress skyrocket. With no sign of his brother and signs of activity in the house, something bad was happening.

Carefully, he swept through the rooms searching for any sign of his brother. His worry was slowly climbing up the scale to panic when he made it through all of them for the second time without seeing anything. Whatever the EMF meter was reading was almost off the charts, and there was nothing so far that could have caused it. He stopped for a moment in the dining room, catching his breath and trying to think where else to look. Checking out the window, he saw the Impala was still parked along the road, so unless someone else had come and left there unheard and unseen, Dean couldn't have gone too far. _Hopefully_.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam caught sight of something that hadn't been there before. He turned to the dining room cabinet, breath catching in his throat when he saw what was laying on the dishcloth draped on top the shelves. "No, no, no," he muttered under his breath, practically racing over to the cabinet. _Not possible. This can't be happening..._ His eyes widened when he realized he wasn't imagining things.

A tiny, three inch version of his brother was sprawled across the cloth, collapsed on his side with an itty bitty gun clutched in his hand.

"Dean?!" He cried out worriedly, carefully nudging the little body with the tip of his finger. Dean gave no response to the voice or the nudge. He was so _small._ Holding his breath, he gently pushed against one of the little shoulders, rolling the tiny form over. He was so afraid to touch Dean, his hand was so much larger than the miniature hunter. Hell, his _finger _was bigger than Dean now. Almost thicker than that tiny chest, too. Dean's left arm hung limply at his side, and the tiny shotgun slipped out of his right hand when he was rolled over. Bloodstains marked the washcloth where his head had been, and when Sam peered close enough, he could see a tiny gash on Dean's forehead, still bleeding.

He leaned over, trying to check if Dean was still breathing. Dean was so small it was hard to see if the little chest was moving, so he had to put his ear over Dean's body. He listened quietly for breathing and was careful to not lean directly on the tiny form. He sighed thankfully when he heard it - soft, and slightly stuttering, but there.

Sam glanced around the room, realizing that whatever had attacked the other hunter might still be around. The last thing they needed was to both get shrunk. He gently gathered the cloth his brother was laying on around him and scooped it up as carefully as possible, keeping Dean safe in the center. He avoided any thoughts about how light it was or how teeny Dean was. It was unreal. The way Dean's left arm flopped over limply when Sam lifted him up made Sam worry that it was dislocated. "Just hold on, OK?" Sam whispered to his brothers' little form, feeling protective of the tiny hunter. "I'm not gonna let anything happen to you." He carefully tucked the small hunter deeper into the cloth, not liking how easily Dean's arm flopped around.

Keeping a watchful eye out for anything out of the ordinary, Sam kept his salt gun at the ready as he slowly made his way back to the entrance of the house. He walked as carefully as possible, keeping his footsteps soft and even, not wanting to cause any more injuries to his vulnerable brother. Even the slightest wrong move could end badly for the miniature hunter. Every time his brother shifted on the washcloth, Sam felt his heart jump, worrying Dean would wake up and panic before Sam could do anything. He couldn't afford to grab his brother in his hand, he'd be risking exasperating Dean's injuries, and if Dean fell from this height, he'd in a world of hurt. Plus with Dean's ever present fear of heights, he might have a panic attack without any of the other problems he had going on factoring in.

Finally reaching the Impala, Sam dropped the gun and pulled out the keys, keeping Dean carefully balanced while he opened up the car. Sam sat down, finally feeling a little of the tension leave his shoulders. Now that he was in the car, if Dean woke up and panicked, he at least didn't have to worry about Dean falling on concrete. Grabbing the gun from the ground, he tossed it into the duffel in the back and turned his attention back to his older brother. _Older, but definitely littler._ Sam thought with a brief bout of humor before sobering up. Dean probably wouldn't appreciate the joke in this situation.

He held the washcloth up as close to his face as he could, trying to make out the full extent of Dean's injuries. The arm was definitely dislocated, but from what he could see, the head injury had stopped bleeding. That was a good sign. He prayed it wasn't a concussion. None of their medicine would do Dean any good when the tablets were bigger than his hand. Holding his breath, Sam gently grasped his brother's arm between his thumb and index finger. He'd done this a hundred times before, but every time they'd been close in size. This time, if he did this even slightly wrong, he could accidentally crush his brothers' arm, or snap it, or... he shied away from those thoughts, fear for Dean taking root front and center in his mind. He could feel how fragile the bones in the arm were now, so much smaller than his fingers. It pained him to have to do this. He had to fix the arm, though. The longer it went without treatment the worse the swelling would get. He lightly adjusted his grip again, in preparation.

"This might hurt a little," he murmured softly, in case Dean was awake enough to be aware of what he was doing, before quickly popping the arm back into place with a small jerk. Dean's body spazzed, silently crying out. He clutched the arm to his side with his hand, thrashing around. Sam carefully cupped his free hand around the tiny body, stopping the movement and preventing his brother from injuring himself more during the seizure. Held like that, Dean was completely enveloped by Sam's hand. Dean still showed no sign of waking up, despite the small shudders that continued. Sam felt his heart calm a little when Dean slumped down again into a motionless slumber, tiny body relaxing into the cloth.

Sam let out a sigh. Now that Dean was taken care of, he turned his attention back to the cause of the problem. He'd never heard of anything that could _shrink_ a person. He carefully thought over the creeps they'd run into in the past. Nothing had ever shown abilities even close to this before. Even shapeshifters and skinwalkers remained on the same scale when they transformed. He remembered how the EMF meter had gone off right before he'd found Dean and wondered if anyone had ever run into a spirit with these abilities before.

He glanced back down at Dean. "Maybe this time, I'll save you for once?" The quip fell on flat air. He felt none of the humor he'd been hoping for once it was out. Sam slowly lowered the washcloth to the middle of the bench seat in the Impala. Once he made sure that it wasn't going to slip off the seat when he started driving, he folded the top of the washcloth over Dean, hiding the tiny hunter from sight. Hopefully, keeping Dean covered like that would help him adjust to everything when he woke up. Sam didn't want his brother getting hurt trying to run away. Especially if he was running from Sam. His heart sunk at the thought, knowing it was very possible in this weird situation.

* * *

><p>Dean woke up to a pounding headache and his arm sore and slightly numb. He gave a groan, trying to sit up but didn't get far before he collapsed back down. It felt like he'd taken on the Jayhawks singlehandedly the night before. He rolled over onto his back to relieve some of the pressure from his arm and tried to recall where he'd been last. He could recall going to a house with Sammy... looking for some girl. He was proud when he managed to remember the girls name was Katie. Baby steps, that's all it took. Everything would come back.<p>

Outside his head, he became aware of a loud rumbling. It sounded like... his baby's engine. Only, it was a lot louder than the last time he'd heard it. Was he... in the car? He cautiously opened his eyes, hoping to get more clues of what had happened to him. The soft light all around made his headache throb more while he focused on his surroundings. He was completely covered, laying on a rough surface that was vibrating, the same way his car did when he was driving. _Am I in the Impala? How is that possible?_

He sat up fully, gasping when his left arm stung at the movement. He slowly rolled up his sleeve, seeing his shoulder swollen and red. _That's right, something threw me into the wall in the house._ He recalled the last few moments before blacking out. _Must have dislocated it,_ he surmised from the way it felt. From the look of things, Sammy had already popped it back into place. With a little ice back at the motel, he'd be good as new. Checking over the rest of his body to see if there were any other injuries, Dean found a wet gash on his forehead. He dabbed his hand at it, finding partially dried blood. None of it was fresh, so it must already be healing. He wondered how long he'd been out, and what had happened to Sam.

Once he was sure everything was in one piece, he took in his surroundings again, confused. There was no way he was sitting in his baby. For one thing, there was too much space around him. As much as he loved the Impala, he'd never had this much comfort when sleeping in the car. He always woke up with a stiff back, curled up awkwardly. Noticing his sawed-off shotgun lying next to him, he grabbed it, putting it safely back in its hiding spot in his jacket. He took account of everything he had, hearing his dad's voice telling him the day he didn't prepare for anything was the day he stopped breathing. 'It only takes one mistake,' flashed through his memory, growled out in his father's angry tone.

Aside from his shotgun, he had extra salt shells tucked away, his trusty handgun, cell phone, a silver knife, lighter, salt, flashlight and some holy water in a flask. A hunters' essentials. Never leave home without them. He loved all the pockets his jacket had hidden in it. Life was much safer when you took precautions and came prepared for everything. He worried about his keys, patting himself down to find them for a few moments until he remembered his brother had been driving the car that day. _That's right, Sam was with me._ He found little more of his memory was starting to come back. He tried to push the covering off his head, starting to feel like he was trapped.

"Dean? You awake?" Sam's voice echoed around him, sounding as loud as the car. Dean covered his ears at volume, flinching as his headache started up again.

"Yeah, I'm awake. Sam, where are we? What happened? And why are you shouting, I'm right here." Dean angrily punched at the blanket over him.

There was a brief moment of silence before he got a much quieter response. Dean practically wanted to cry in relief. "Dean, we're in the Impala."

"Not possible," Dean growled out, annoyed that Sam thought he didn't know his beloved car inside and out. "I never had this much leg room in the Impala."

"Yeah, about that... do you remember what happened to you before you got knocked out?" Dean caught a note of apprehension in Sam's tone and frowned to himself, wondering what the hell was going on. Sam was acting odd even for him.

"I went through the ground floor, and didn't find anything. So I went to the dining room while I waited for you. It was weird, there was a ring sitting on the table. When I went to take a closer look at it, this lady - this spirit showed up and slammed me against the wall. That's it. I got knocked out 'till I woke up here." He tried again to get the blanket off his head, attempting to stand up this time on wobbly legs. The cover was too heavy for him though, and he ended up crashing back down in a heap. Dean grunted when his arm burned painfully at the exertion. "Where the hell am I? Why can't I see you?"

"It's for your own good. You got hurt when she hit you, and I needed a way to keep you safe and out of harms way."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean, Sam?" Dean started to struggle with the cover again, trying to pull it off. He could feel himself getting more pissed. "'Keep me safe?' What the hell do you need to keep me safe from?" Out of nowhere, it lifted off, giving him breathing space, but still blanketing his range of sight. He took a few deep breaths as the claustrophobia went down, not questioning how it had happened for the moment.

"I'll take it off, but Dean? Do me a favor, and don't panic. Please. Just remember no matter what, I won't let anything happen to you."

Confused, Dean was about to ask Sam what the hell he was talking about, but the words caught in his throat when the cover lifted off completely without any other warning. Nothing around him was making any sense. He blinked, hoping his world would snap back to normal, but it didn't help. "Son of a bitch..." slipped out hopelessly.

He found himself sitting in a titanic version of his beloved Impala, on what seemed to be a... _Is this a dishrag?_ He found himself thinking to distract him from the rest of his fucked up world, baffled. No wonder it was so scratchy and uncomfortable. From his point of view, the back of the seat stretched above his head for at least forty feet, the radio in front of him was unreachable, soaring above his head... Apprehensively he turned toward the driver's seat, fearing what he'd see, but needing to know. He felt his breathing speed up the moment he saw his little brother. Dean stumbled backwards, trying to put space in between him and... and... "S-Sam?" He gasped out, still in shock and unable to process everything.

A colossal version of Sam was looking down at him from high above, huge hands on the wheel of the Impala, thick, strong fingers wrapped around the wheel, making it clear he was driving from the way he was gripping. Their eyes met, huge puppy eyes coming out full force against Dean's tiny greens. He felt his heart racing at the sheer size of his brother. Sam had always been a big guy, but this was ridiculous! For all the stuff that had ever happened in their lives, nothing this scale had ever affected either brother.

Dean tried to steady his breathing, not wanting to let Sam know just how freaked out he was. "Wha-What happened?" He found himself demanding, simply to break the uncomfortable silence that was stretching out between them.

Sam turned back to the road before answering. "I'm not sure, I found you like this when I came downstairs. You were collapsed on the cabinet in the dining room, arm dislocated. I never saw what did it. There was nothing around when I got there. But the EMF meter was going nuts right after." He peered back down at Dean. Dean couldn't help stiffening when the huge eyes fell on him again. His instincts were begging him to run, find cover, escape. He stilled them, distantly knowing he was safe, no matter how screwed up it all seemed. It was just Sam, no matter how big. "Do you remember what happened before you got knocked out? Something that might have caused this?" Sam asked him softly, afraid of scaring Dean.

Closing his eyes, Dean shut out the world around him to get his mind off how WRONG everything was and brought his attentions back to his... problem. "There was a ring. Everything happened after I touched it." He rubbed his head with his left arm and froze. Something felt off. Opening his eyes, he scrutinized his hand curiously.

The ring from the dining room was on it.

Shocked, Dean scrambled backwards, trying to yank it off his hand. It didn't budge. From above he heard "Dean, what the hell?!" Beyond the washcloth he caught sight of something massive moving at him seconds before a hand snagged him in its grasp, huge fingers wrapping around him easily and lifting him off the seat. He was pulled up quickly, coming to a halt in front of Sam's face. He found himself shaking from what had just happened, barely able to process what was in front of him. He'd never felt more pathetic in his life, more insignificant.

The huge hazel eyes staring back at him softened when he started to shake. "Dean, it's ok. I just didn't want you falling off the edge of the seat. You're safe. It's just me, just Sammy."

"Y-yeah," Dean managed to stutter out. Trying to calm down from the shock of being grabbed, Dean focused away from the weird of the situation long enough to see that Sam had pulled off the side of the road with the car, most likely when he had started spazzing out at the ring. Which reminded him why it had all happened in the first place. He pulled his arm out of Sam's grasp, which was light and gentle despite their size difference. Yup, the ring was still there. "Sam, remember that ring I told you about?"

Concern shown in the huge eyes only a few feet away from Dean. "Yeah?"

He held his hand up, not knowing if Sam could see something that small. "I barely touched it, and it's on my hand now."

Sam frowned as he leaned forward, eyes narrowed. Dean couldn't stop himself from squirming back uneasily at the scrutiny. Sam's huge eyes were only a few inches away...regular sized inches, that was. "I can't see anything," Sam said helplessly. "Your hands are too small."

Uncomfortable with his brothers' proximity, Dean kept his eyes glued on the ring. He was so, so far outside his comfort zone right now. Personal space was a thing of the past. Hearing Sam say he was too small for the ring to even be seen made him feel even more insignificant. Pulling his other arm out, Dean tried to tug the ring off again. It didn't budge. "It won't come off. I'm thinking that it might be what caused this," and he gestured at himself, face turning red. Even Dean couldn't have said if it was from embarrassment or anger.

Sam leaned back again, giving Dean some breathing room. "You thinking cursed object?"

Dean eyed the ring. "Looks like." He sighed. "Just my luck. Unless you have express tickets to Mount Doom." It seemed it was his turn to deal with a curse. He remembered how much trouble the rabbit's foot had put Sam through before they managed to break the damn curse. He hoped that shrinking was the only effect the ring had, remembering how the rabbit's foot effect had changed when Sam lost the foot.

An idea occurred to him. "Hold on," he said, motion for Sam to wait. Sam arched his eyebrows curiously. Twisting in Sam's grasp, Dean dug his phone from his pocket. The fingers shifted around him, giving him a bit more freedom of movement. He felt a small thrill of fear at the movement. He was completely in someone else's power, a feeling he'd never before had to this complete and total extent. There was nothing he could do to stop Sam... hell to stop anyone while he was this small. A feeling of crushing insignificance hit him. He was treading in completely unfamiliar ground. It was not a pleasant experience. Distracting himself from the thought, he turned on the camera on his phone, snapping a picture of the ring and sending it to Sam.

Sam's phone buzzed. Dean watched as his brother dug it out of his pocket, slightly jostled with the smallest movement from Sam. He couldn't help staring at his brothers' phone. It was almost the same size as Dean himself. Pulling up the message Dean had sent him, Sam smiled. "Heh, good idea." Sam inspected the ring, eyebrows furrowed. "That's a pretty distinctive ring. It reminds me of a wedding band. Did you see anything inside it before you put it on, like an engraving?"

"I didn't put it on, Sam, it just appeared on my hand." Dean couldn't hide the annoyance from his voice. What did Sam take him for? "And I was in the middle of trying to check for inscriptions when I got attacked." Dean found himself relaxing back into the fingers slightly while Sam was mulling over the photo.

"Hmm," Sam frowned at the picture, still considering it.

Now that he'd calmed down enough to be able to think, Dean took a moment to look around at his surroundings while Sam was distracted. When he saw how high up he was in the air, he grabbed onto Sam's fingers, panic creeping in. His breathing started to come faster and he felt some of the blood drain from his face. "S-sam, too high," he managed to stutter out while he was freaking out inside. He saw worry pass over Sam's face before being quickly lowered back to the washcloth he'd been on before. The hand drew away after making sure Dean was settled on the seat. Slipping his phone back into his pocket, Sam pulled the Impala back onto the road.

Dean sat back against the massive seat with a sigh, little shoulders slumping down. He hoped they'd be able to find a solution quick. This was shaping up to be his least favorite case ever.


	3. Sam's Little Brother

Almost twenty minutes later, Dean found himself alone in the Impala. Sam was busy getting them a room at the cheapest motel they'd been able to find, the Greencastle Inn. Sitting there, he felt more out of place than he'd ever been in his own car before. The inside of his car, so familiar that morning, had become an alien landscape, the windows so far over his head he couldn't keep a lookout for Sam or anyone approaching the car. A massive flannel shirt he'd dropped on the seat before they went to the house was an ocean of fabric, easy to get lost in if he dared to set foot in it. Even the flask he kept whiskey in was too heavy for him to lift, and bigger than his whole body.

Sitting in the car alone, he could sense just how vulnerable he was without his brother. It was one of the worst feelings he'd ever had. All someone had to do was peer in the window, which he couldn't even see out of, and he'd be screwed. Self defense doesn't go far when you're barely three inches tall. Standing up, he wandered to the edge of the seat, curious if he could jump down to the floor to hide if he needed too.

Once he took a look at the size of the drop, Dean felt the blood drain from his face. Being small royally sucked when you hated heights. He quickly went back to the washcloth he'd woken up in and made a small hole, big enough for him to hide under if he saw anyone come. Sam would probably make fun of him for it when he got back, but Dean couldn't stop worst case scenarios from passing through his mind the whole time. Checking his work, he nodded to himself, at least feeling like he'd done _something_ to protect himself.

He sat back against the bench seat with a heavy sigh, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on him. He couldn't escape the thought of insignificance. At three inches tall, he wasn't going to be able to help anyone. It didn't help that nothing he did these days seemed to go right. Ever since he'd confessed to Sam about his time in hell, he could feel how he'd let his brother down. And now here he was, unable to even get down from the seat of the car without help. He buried his head in his arms, hating the feeling of uselessness pressing in on him.

He was startled from these thoughts by a huge thump outside the car, making him jump under the small hideout he'd made before realizing it was just his brother unlocking the door. Sam arched his eyebrows at the miniature hunter as he lifted the edge of the washcloth off of Dean. "Hey, you alright?"

Trying to recover what little was left of his dignity, Dean stood up, glaring at Sam. "I'm totally awesome, just living the life down here, Sammy."

Sam chuckled at that, starting up the car. Dean sat back down in a hurry so he didn't go flying when they started to move. The Impala pulled around to a spot right in front of their room. Putting it in park, Sam reached for Dean. Dean reacted like a bullet, jumping back from the massive hand coming straight for him. "Hey! Hands off, sasquatch!" He threw his hands out in front, as though he was warding Sam off.

Sam froze with his hand halfway to Dean. He arched his eyebrows at his brother. "Why? Don't tell me you're planning on _walking_ to the room?"

Uncomfortable with the situation, Dean scowled up at Sam. "N-No, but I'm not some action figure you can just grab whenever you want!" He crossed his arms angrily.

Sam sighed at this and dropped his hand to the seat, almost knocking Dean off his feet from the unexpected force. Swallowing down an apology, he prompted, "How do you want to do this then?"

Still glaring at Sam, Dean was silent for a moment. He knew he couldn't get to the room alone, and it would be a bad idea to even try, but it was hard to swallow down his pride and admit he needed the help. Not to mention how nerve-wracking it had been when Sam held him earlier. He gestured to the huge hand next to him. "Just... no grabbing... OK?"

Sam hid a smile for his brothers' sake, surprised at Dean's decision. He extended his hand again slowly, this time palm up next to the tiny hunter. "How's this?"

Dean covered up a shudder as he walked up to the hand. Fingers longer than him stretched out, reminding him of how defenseless he was. He knew from experience how strong Sam was when he was regular sized, from all their sparring while growing up. At this size, Dean wouldn't win against a finger. Having a hard time bringing himself to step onto the hand, he tried to buy himself some time, joking, "Let's try to keep the g-force down, Kingda Ka."

Sam scoffed at that. "Yeah, like you even know what that feels like. Have you ever gone near a roller coaster?"

Shrugging, Dean muttered "whatever," as he finally brought himself to step on the hand. His footing was offset by the uneven surface of skin, and the way his boots sank into the skin almost made him stumble into the palm. As soon as he was settled, Sam lifted the hand away from the seat of the car. Seeing how high he was in the air, Dean blanched, grabbing onto the thumb next to him tightly. Sam pulled his hand against his chest, curling the fingers up to make sure that his brother was safe before climbing out of the car and locking up.

Sam found holding Dean one of the strangest things he'd ever done. Dean couldn't have weighed more than a few ounces, if that, and the feeling of tiny hands holding Sam's thumb for balance sent a shiver up his back. The little boots shifted on his palm every move he made, tickling against his skin. Dean was having a hard time keeping his balance on the hand. Sam carefully flexed his fingers so they formed a guardrail against falling for Dean. Pushing aside all those thoughts, Sam grabbed the duffle with their stuff inside. He went up to the room, carefully keeping his fingers curled up around Dean and unlocked the door.

Dean found himself quickly lowered to the first bed in the room and clambered off the hand as fast as he could. If he never did that again, it would be too soon. Sam tossed their duffle bag against the wall next to an air vent, wasting no time going into the small bathroom area, and came out with a damp washcloth and a plastic baggie.

He gently dropped the washcloth down next to Dean and said, "I'll be right back, I'm gonna get some ice for your shoulder. See if you can wash off the blood with that so we can get a better look at your head. Gotta make sure you don't have a concussion."

Walking over to the massive cloth, Dean grumbled but did as Sam said. He knew his injuries had to be checked, and if Sam was the one injured he'd never let Sam go without fixing him up. He just hated being fussed over like this. After he'd wiped the blood off, Dean gingerly touched the cut on his head. From what he could tell it was just that - a cut. He didn't have any of the familiar symptoms of a concussion, no dizziness, no blurred vision, his headache was gone. And he hadn't felt the need to throw up yet. Except, of course, when he was being carted around by his sasquatch of a brother, and that _definitely_ didn't count.

Stripping off his jacket and the black tee he was wearing underneath, Dean was able to fully see the damage done to his shoulder. Aside from being swollen, it was doing much better. There was a faint red to the shoulder, and the handprint left by Cass seemed to shine brighter now. The pain level was slowly going down, as long as he didn't put any pressure on it. He rotated it, making sure that it was fully in the socket. After a few revolutions he dropped his arm, sighing with relief as his pain level went down.

He glanced up when the motel room door banged open again, instincts going haywire. Ever since waking up in the car downsized, he found himself jumping at the littlest things. Being three inches tall was making him oversensitive to threats from regular, run of the mill situations. Luckily, all that came in was Sam holding a small bag of ice in his hands. Dean sighed, the sudden adrenaline rush slowly wearing off.

Sam came over to the bed, sitting down far enough away from Dean that he didn't knock his brother over. Leaning down, he peered closely at his tiny brother. "How's the head?"

Dean shuffled back from Sam a little, unable to prevent a tiny bit of intimidation at the sheer size difference leaking through. "Good. No headache now, and the cut's not that bad."

Sam reached forward with his hand, briefly hesitating when Dean took another step back, a flash of intimidation crossing Dean's face, then gently pressed the pad of his finger against his brother's forehead. Holding it there for a moment, he gauged how warm his brother was. He smiled down at Dean, pulling his hand away. "No fever, either. How's the shoulder feel?"

"You did a good job popping it back in, all I have to deal with is the swelling now." Dean let a rare smile drift across his face at that statement. Sam _was_ great at stitching him back together. And Lord knows he needed to get stitched together enough.

Dropping the bag of ice next to Dean, Sam gathered the soiled rag from the bed and went back over to the bathroom, dumping it on the floor. While he was gone, Dean walked over to the ice, trying to figure out how he was going to use a bag of ice bigger than him. After a few moments of consideration he managed to find a comfortable position to sit, with his shoulder propped against it. As soon as he felt the ice against his injury, Dean let out a heartfelt sigh. The throbbing pain in his shoulder slowly went down as a blessed numbness spread throughout the arm.

Now that his injuries were taken care of, Dean turned his mind to more pressing matters. "Hey, you hungry? I'm hungry."

Sam gave him a look of disbelief. "You got all this going on and THAT's the first thing that comes to mind?"

Dean shot back his own tiny glare. "Have we met?"

Rolling his eyes, Sam grabbed his jacket. "Well that means i'll be going to get some food, I guess. Make sure you keep that arm on ice while I'm gone."

"Yes, mother." Dean glanced over at Sam. "Mind dropping the laptop off over here? I want to get started on some research."

"Dean, you should really take it easy for a bit, let the shoulder get better before you try taking anything big on. And you usually HATE research." He left out the fact that Dean would pretty much have to hop from key to key to get anywhere. The laptop wasn't exactly made to be used by someone that size.

Dean scowled angrily. "I'm fine." He didn't want to be stuck this size any longer than he had too. He'd already had enough of singing for the Lollypop Guild for one lifetime.

Sam gave him a long look, then came over to the bed. He sat down on the floor next to it, putting him on the same eye level as Dean. "Dean, we'll find a way to fix this. But first, you have to save your strength. Which means, sit down, let your arm get better and watch some TV. I'll start on the research after we eat."

Crossing his arms angrily, Dean grumbled, "doesn't mean I have to like it," under his breath. He refused to meet Sam's gaze, hating how small he felt whenever he looked at his brother, even though Sam was trying his best not to tower over Dean at the moment. The fact that Sam had to go out of his way to see eye to eye with Dean rubbed at him too.

Letting out a long sigh that ruffled the older Winchester's hair, Sam stood up, casting a huge shadow over Dean. He placed the remote for the TV next to Dean and left the room, locking the door behind him. For a few moments, Dean didn't move, just taking everything in without his brother around. Having his brothers' eyes on him constantly put his nerves on edge. It was a relief to be without that for a few moments, even if the feeling of vulnerability was creeping up on him again. Everything loomed over him, making him long for his normal height back. Without Sam, he wouldn't even be able to get a drink from the fridge, nevermind open up a window or a door. Or drive his beloved Impala. He HATED the feeling of reliance this size problem was forcing on him.

To get his mind off everything, he got up from his icepack, going over to the remote Sam left him. It took a bit of force, but he managed to push the 'power' button on the remote. He channel surfed for a few minutes before settling on _Dr Sexy, MD._ Watching some hot nurses in action would hopefully put him in a better frame of mind. Chucking his boots near where he'd left his shirt and jacket, he sat back down by his icepack, determined to get his arm better ASAP.

* * *

><p>Turning the Impala back in the direction of the motel, Sam took a deep breath.<p>

Luckily for Dean, Sam had found a diner that let him order food to go, getting himself a salad and for Dean a bacon cheeseburger. The waitress had tried to talk him into the bacon double cheeseburger, but Sam had the feeling that his brother would be overwhelmed with just the regular sized sandwich. He could just imagine Dean's face when he saw a burger the same size as him. He had also managed to score some pecan pie from the diner. He was hoping it might help cheer Dean up. If there was anything in the world that would make him feel better, it was a slice of pie bigger than him. He'd also made a quick stop and picked up a six-pack of beer. If either of them had ever needed a drink, it was now.

Dean would never admit it, but Sam could see in the way he still eyed everything around him just how freaked out he was by the whole situation. Dean wasn't used to having to rely on anyone, and was practically allergic to asking for help, ever. All Sam wanted to do was help him out and make sure that nothing happened to him. Yet he knew Dean would see asking Sam for help the same as admitting weakness.

He couldn't completely blame Dean for being freaked out though, this wasn't exactly a normal situation. He tried to imagine how he'd feel if everything soared above his head, out of reach. It was hard to imagine. Hopefully they'd have Dean back to normal soon. He hated the feeling that he'd smoosh his older brother if he grabbed him too hard.

Stopping at a red light, Sam couldn't stop a small growl of annoyance from escaping. The longer he was away from the room, the more convinced he was that something would happen to Dean while he was away. Worst case scenarios kept flashing through his mind... _what if someone breaks in, what if the maid doesn't see the Do Not Disturb sign, what if Dean falls off the bed..._The light finally turned green and Sam thankfully drove under it, glad for the distraction of driving. Time to think was the last thing he needed today. He was almost back to the room, and half an hour was a very short time to be away... Dean would be fine. For the last five minutes of his drive, Sam kept repeating that line in his head.

Finally pulling into the parking lot of the motel, some of the tension in his chest eased a little. He could see their door from here, and it appeared undisturbed. He parked the Impala right in front of the room, the lights shining right into the window. _Well, Dean definitely know's I'm here,_ he thought with a brief laugh, relief that the door seemed undisturbed filing him briefly. He grabbed the brown bag their food was packed in and the beers, and locked the car up.

Unlocking the door to the room, Sam pushed the door open slowly. He didn't want to make any fast movements until he was sure where Dean was. Spotting him still reclining against the half-melted bag of ice, Sam let himself relax. "Hey," he said, pushing the door open the rest of the way and stepping in.

Dean glanced up from his spot on the bed. Spotting the bag of food and the beer, he bounced up. "So, what's for dinner, Sammy?"

Smiling, Sam found himself glad his brother was acting more like his normal self with food nearby. He put on his best hostess voice. "Well, we have this _lovely_ salad. I just know you've been dying for one all day." He pulled his salad out while he talked, smirking at the reaction he already knew was coming.

Just as he figured, Sam was subjected to the least intimidating death glare Dean had ever given him. "That is SO not funny."

Sam laughed, "relax dude, you know I'd never let you down like that. Found the best bacon cheeseburger this side of Indiana for you." Pulling it out of the bag, he unwrapped it on the table. For the moment, the pie was left in the bag. If he showed it to Dean, he had a feeling his brother would be skipping dinner completely and jumping in the dessert.

Satisfied with the setup, he turned to the bed, scooping Dean easily into his palm before remembering his 'no grabbing' promise from earlier. Briefly it disturbed him, how easy it was to pick up Dean unwillingly. Nothing the small hunter could do would stop a regular sized person.

Dean struggled against his grip all the way to the table, looking downright murderous. His tiny arms and legs couldn't budge any of Sam's fingers, luckily, with him so high off the ground. Sam dropped him off right in front of the cheeseburger, hoping it would be enough of a peace offering.

Dean gave him another glare. "What the hell, dude?"

Sighing through his nose, Sam grabbed one of the beers, pouring a tiny bit into the cap for Dean, avoiding the glare sent his way. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking."

"Damn right you weren't thinking."

After taking the cap of beer Sam offered him from his large fingers, Dean gave him a look like he had something else he wanted to say for a moment, but in the end just turned back to his sandwich, trying to sip from the plate sized cap. Opening his salad, Sam watched his brother, figuring a tiny Dean taking on a sandwich was far more entertaining than what was on TV. Which... seemed to be two doctors making out on the operation table. Slightly mortified by his brothers taste in television, Sam returned his attention to Dean. His brother had weird taste in TV shows. A smile quirked at his lip when he remembered Dean mentioning watching Oprah... not something he'd thought he'd ever catch Dean watching. Or even _admit_ to watching. Ever.

Sam hadn't really thought out how Dean would _eat_ his sandwich, considering it was bigger than Dean, so he ended up watching as his brother attempted to create a mini sandwich. Dean got the pieces of bread easily enough, and the ground meat and cheese, but the bacon wasn't overly crispy, and wouldn't budge when Dean tried to tear it off. Sam waited a few moments to see if Dean would break down and ask for help, but no question was forthcoming. Holding in another sigh at his brothers' stubbornness, Sam reached over him to the sandwich. The second the shadow of his hand fell on Dean, the little hunter gave a start, leaping out of the way with a cry of alarm.

"Relax, it's just me." Sam said reassuringly, trying to ignore another look of intimidation that passed over Dean's face as he ripped a piece of bacon off easily. He held it out to Dean, who still seemed to be recovering from his shock. Dean took it without comment, sitting down on the table cross legged to piece his sandwich together, angled away from Sam. Sam blinked a few times in surprise. _Holy shit, he's embarrassed!_ Dean refused to look over at Sam, but he could recognize the way Dean was avoiding his gaze, and the way the little shoulders were hunched. He'd know that look anywhere. He swallowed down the desire to say something reassuring to Dean, knowing he would just take it as an insult no matter how it was intended.

The rest of the dinner passed uneventfully, both brothers quietly eating their food while lost in their thoughts. The beer helped Sam relax like he'd hoped, and Dean looked a little less tense by the end of the meal.

Unable to contain his curiosity once he was done eating, Sam leaned down to get a better look at Dean. It was just so weird! Once Dean noticed Sam leaning over him, he shot up a scowl at Sam. "You mind?" He snipped, sounding put out.

"Sorry, it's just..." Sam waved his hand at Dean vaguely. "You're so _small_..."

His brothers shoulders slumped at the reminder. Sam felt a twinge of guilt for reminding him. It was going to take some getting used too for him as well. He reached his hand to Dean, ignoring the tiny jump of surprise he got in response. "Want a refill?" He asked, motioning to his beer.

"Might as well." Dean handed the bottlecap over to the huge fingers hovering near him, still avoiding Sam's gaze.

Sam tipped a drop of beer in, noting that he was almost out himself. He'd have to open another one once he cleaned up a bit and put away the food, since there was no way Dean would be able to do anything with his leftovers. Although he ate a huge amount for his size, the burger was barely touched from Sam's point of view. He wrapped up the rest of the burger, putting it in the mini fridge with the pie for later and tossed the remains of his salad out.

Afterwards, Sam went to wash up in the bathroom. While in there, he found himself wondering how Dean would be able to use anything to wash up with. Even the sink was awful steep to get in and out of. He sighed. _Dean's gonna just love this... _At least he had a few ideas that might make it feasible.

After finishing up, he wandered out, calling to Dean. "Hey, you want to wash up or..." he trailed off when his eyes landed on the table, where Dean had still been finishing up his food when he'd left. The bottle cap was there. The bit of sandwich Dean had been eating was there.

Dean was gone.

_"DEAN?!"_


	4. Of Beers and Pies

Slowly finishing his beer, Dean sat on the table watching the TV from afar. Sam was still cleaning up the food mess from their dinner, wrapping everything up. Although Dean was trying to ignore Sam, he couldn't help peeking over once in a while. It was impossible to completely ignore Sam, and his instincts kept demanding that he keep a watch, no matter that he knew Sam would never do anything to hurt him. It just wasn't natural to have someone the size of a building hovering around.

Still trying to adjust to his new point of view, Dean took this opportunity to gaze carefully around the room, memorizing its layout from his new size. He knew it would come in handy if he ever needed to get around without Sam's help, or if he was alone, so he took advantage of the momentary quiet to focus.

Hearing the bathroom door shut, he turned briefly in that direction. Sam must have gone in, since he'd disappeared and the mess was completely cleaned up. Dean felt his shoulders relax a little more. The entire time his 'little' brother was around, he could feel eyes on him, an entirely nerve-wracking sensation. He could understand why Sam wanted to keep an eye on him, but it was still a very uncomfortable situation for him.

Leaving the remains of his sandwich next to his now empty bottlecap, he stood up, stretching out his arms over his head. His left arm was hurting less now, so the ice had done some good for it. Absently, he scratched at the ring that had appeared on his hand. For some reason, wearing it was bothering him more at the moment. He walked over to the edge of the table, feeling some of the blood drain from his face when he checked over the edge. It was even higher up than the car... He'd have to wait for Sam to be able to get back to his ice pack. And speaking of... he noticed his ice pack had become a plastic bag of water. He needed a refill. _Or I could always make me a nice waterbed..._ he mused.

His thoughts were interrupted when he became aware of a burning sensation from the hand bearing the strange ring. Holding it up, he noticed the diamonds in the ring were beginning to... glisten? All of a sudden, they almost had a light of their own. At the same time, he could've sworn he heard a distant voice chanting _mine forever... you will not take him from me..._ in the back of his mind. Desperately pulling at the ring, Dean let out a string of curses. Who knew what this freaky ring was doing to him! No matter what he did, it still wouldn't budge so much as a millimeter. As the burn began to grow in intensity, he started to wobble in place, any semblance of balance gone. Closing his eyes, he put his free hand on his head as he was overcome by a wave of vertigo and nausea. He could feel something change in the air, almost wrapping around him and holding him in place, thickening...

Cautiously, he cracked open an eye when he felt his socks suddenly standing in something wet. His world had changed from the inside of a motel room to a very small, dark room with a thick smell hanging in the air and an umber tint to what little light there was. He caught himself with his right arm against a curved wall as the vertigo caught up to him at last, socked feet splashing in the puddle he was standing in. Taking a few deep breaths to calm down, he realized he recognized the smell of what he was standing in. Which could only mean... holding his breath, he peered up at the 'ceiling,' praying he was wrong.

A small, round hole a dozen feet above his head was the only exit from his prison. Which meant he could only be in one place... Sam's beer bottle! _How the hell did I get here?_ He kicked against the wall to check if there was any give, hoping he was hallucinating everything, but he just managed to stub his toe.

Remembering how the ring had been burning, he checked his hand. The burn had disappeared completely, and the ring now looked just as normal as it had before his... teleport... into a beer bottle. The air was thick and humid, and he could feel his breathing starting to speed up again, adrenaline pumping at the danger he was suddenly in. "Sam?" He called out, pounding against the wall of the bottle. His pounding was severely muffled by the sheer thickness of the glass. If only he had his cell phone! He'd made the mistake of leaving it in his jacket pocket when he was taking care of his arm. If his brother didn't notice him, he could end up tossed out with the trash or worse... and unable to do shit about it.

From outside the darkness of the bottle, he could hear a frantic voice crying out "Dean?!" He heard the panic in Sam's voice, mirroring his own.

_Oh, thank GOD. _Relief filled him that Sam had noticed his disappearance right away.

As loud as he could, he shouted up with his hands cupped around his mouth, "SAM! I'm over here!" His voice echoed up the sides of the bottle. "In your beer!"

He could hear huge footsteps approaching him and the bottle. Out of nowhere, the little light coming in through the walls suddenly went dark, and the entire container shook a bit as it was picked up. The bottle lifted up faster than any elevator Dean had ever ridden. He caught himself with his back against the wall before he was knocked into the shallow pool of beer by the quick movement. Above him, a single hazel eye appeared, concern showing in what little Dean could make out. "Dean? What happened? Are you alright?" the huge voice echoed around him in the tiny area. "You know, if you wanted a refill, all you had to do was ask..."

"I have no idea how I got in here! It just kind of happened!" Dean shouted up, relief overcoming him now that Sam had found him. At least he didn't have to worry he'd be tossed out with the trash... or worse. Dean gulped. "One minute I was standing on the table, and the next..." He gestured around at his new surroundings.

The eye crinkled with humor. "Do we need to talk about your drinking problem?"

Dean fired up a glare, starting to feel like he was trapped under a microscope. "So NOT funny."

"Oh, trust me, it's a little funny."

Dean growled at Sam turning that phrase around on him. "Great. Can I get out of here already or am I spending the night in the drunk tank?" He crossed his arms in an attempt to look intimidating. Considering he was three inches tall and trapped in a beer bottle, the attempt failed miserably.

The eye disappeared from above as he felt Sam start to move. The container swayed from side to side with Sam's footsteps. Liquid sloshed around his feet, soaking the rest of his socks. Unable to see anything, Dean couldn't do anything but brace himself against the walls again to avoid tumbling and wait to see what his brother came up with. He could distantly hear Sam rifling through their belongings, trying to find who knows what.

A few minutes later, the top darkened again as Sam peeked in. "You know, it's a good thing you're so small. Any bigger and we'd have trouble getting you out. It's already going to be a tight squeeze."

"So glad to hear there's an upside to my being a happy meal toy, Sammy." Dean paced back and forth unhappily until he felt the bottle start tipping to the side a little. He caught himself against the side again so he didn't slip down. A length of rope that Dean recognized as the dental floss Sam used when patching either of them up with stitches was pushed into the top of the bottle. As soon as it was within reach, Dean grabbed it with his good arm, wrapping the green string around him for better grip.

"Ready?" Sam asked softly as he peered in again briefly.

"As I'll ever be." Dean shot up at him. The rope slowly tightened, and then he was being lifted away from the bottom of the bottle, out of the pool of beer and backwash. When he got to the neck of the bottle, he was tightly compressed by the sides. His bad shoulder scraped against the side, causing him to cry out in pain as red hot bursts of pain shot up his arm.

"Dean? Are you alright?" The upwards movement slowed.

"Keep going, I'm fine!" The last thing Dean wanted was for this to be any more drawn out than it already was. The lifting resumed. This time he was prepared when he was squeezed out the top, biting back any outcry as he saw red spots cover his vision from the pain. He was only hanging in the air for a moment before Sam's massive palm came up under his dangling feet, giving him a safe place to stand. Dean sighed with relief when he was finally standing on mostly solid ground and released the rope.

Sam lifted the hand holding Dean up to his face, concern filling his eyes. "How's your arm?"

Dean rubbed it, wincing. "I'll survive. Just banged it a bit on the way up."

"I was so worried when I couldn't find you. What the hell happened back there?"

Dean frowned thoughtfully. "All I know is the ring started to burn my hand, and then I was overcome by this weird wave of vertigo. Next thing I knew, I was ankle deep in alcohol. It was just like being teleported."

Sam leaned forward, squinting to see Dean's hand. "And is the ring... still burning?"

"No, it stopped as soon as I appeared in the bottle. It's like it never happened now." Dean examined the ring again, annoyed that he still had no idea how to get rid of the thing.

Sam mulled that over for a few minutes before glancing at Dean again. "You know, you smell like a bar."

"Yeah, well next time you can go swim in the beer bottle, and I'll make fun of you for it." Dean crossed his arms defiantly.

Sam laughed, lowering the hand holding Dean. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think the Trickster had something to with this. It seems more his MO, dropping you in a beer bottle."

"Maybe, but that wouldn't explain the ring or the girl who vanished. And I think he'd have dropped me into a bottle with more beer. Plus, he usually changes up his tricks to fit each victim. Whatever this is, it's doing the same thing to both of us far as I can tell." Dean hugged his arms to his body, feeling a chill in the air. He'd left both his shirts sitting on the bed, a mistake.

Sam looked down at him when he started to tremble with concern in his eyes. "You want to get washed up?"

"Yeah, just drop me off by the sink."

He was almost knocked off balance when Sam stood up without warning and walked to the bathroom. He was gently lowered to the sink, carefully climbing onto the porcelain side. He couldn't keep the amazement off his face as Sam started the tap, hundreds of gallons of water pouring out. Everything was so different from this point of view, so much more impressive. Sam filled the sink halfway up, putting a clean washcloth half in the sink so Dean would be able to climb out when he was finished and left some soap nearby. He also dropped off Dean's little black tee before leaving his brother alone to get clean.

"Just... holler when you're done, OK?" He left the door about a half foot open for some privacy.

* * *

><p>The first thing Sam did when he was alone in the room was grab the laptop to do some research. Then, he remembered that the ice had melted in Dean's ice pack and went to get more. His mind kept flicking through things that needed doing, not giving him a moments peace. He couldn't afford to make any mistakes or forget anything with Dean relying on him now. After putting one of Dean's clean shirts on the nightstand for his brother to sleep on (he figured it would be more comfortable than trying to use pillows and blankets bigger than a house) he remembered that he'd been meaning to at least get started on the research before Dean called him.<p>

Picking up the laptop again, he spotted the tiny jacket and pair of boots sitting alone on the bed, and made sure to grab them so they didn't get lost. He stared at them, uneasy that his own brothers clothing seemed closer to doll clothes to him, almost lost in his palm. Putting them down on the nightstand next to the shirt, he got settled on the bed, finally able to concentrate. Of course, just as he managed to load up the computer and start a search for previous owners of the house, he heard Dean's tiny voice calling him from the bathroom.

Padding softly to the bathroom, he poked his head in. "Hey."

Even after everything, it was still amazing to see the miniaturized version of Dean standing there. He'd put his jeans and black tee back on, and was standing there, arms crossed and looking impatient. Sam had to a smile at that. Dean was definitely more like himself now.

Sam held his hand out for his brother, waiting patiently for the tiny hunter to climb on. The feel of tiny feet against his palm still sent chills up his arm. With effort, he forced it to stay still. He couldn't afford to freak Dean out anymore than he already was. He wanted nothing more than to have Dean's trust back. He hated the look of fear he kept getting.

Once Dean was settled, he pulled his hand up against his chest for better safety and went back over to the bed. Plopping down, he briefly held his hand up to his face so they could talk eye to eye - or as close to as they could get in this weird situation.

"You want to hang out with me and do some research, or do you want to lay down and watch TV." Sam asked seriously. He gestured to the shirt he'd put on the nightstand. "I figured you could sleep in there, that way you're not too far away from me during the night. Last thing we need is you getting into more trouble when I'm not around."

Despite appearing completely out of place on the giant hand holding him, Dean seemed far more composed than he'd been so far that night. He was standing there, arms still crossed, with a surprisingly casual look about him considering his situation. "Sounds like a plan. But I'd rather stay up and do some research. The sooner we find out what's going on, the sooner we get me big again."

Sam had to laugh at that. Getting Dean to do any research was normally a chore and a half, and here he was volunteering himself. You knew Dean was desperate when he was actually willing to do research - or in this case, help with the research, since he couldn't do it on his own. "Alright then. I'm gonna check out the history of the house first, see if there's any likely candidates for vengeful spirit. You'll have to tell me if you recognize anyone."

Dean glanced back up at him. "I wonder how this ring is tied to it all." Sam watched him try to pull it off again, still unsuccessful. He bit his lip nervously, unable to hide his worry. Dean didn't notice, luckily. His attention was still consumed by the ring.

Sitting back on the bed, Sam lowered his brother to his chest. He put the bag of ice next to Dean. That way, he could keep an eye on his brother and Dean would be able to see the computer. For a few moments, Dean stood on the chest, taking in his surroundings. Sam couldn't help watching the tiny hunter walk around on his chest, tiny feet giving him goosebumps as he walked around. Dean finally found a good place to sit and got settled with his bad arm propped against the bag of ice. The feeling of Dean shifting in place still sent chills up his spine. There was just no getting used to a tiny body there. Sam pulled the computer back to his lap once he was sure Dean was settled and went to the page that had loaded about the house.

Katie showed up first on his search of course. More about the renovations she had been working on appeared as well. The next set of owners was a small family, husband and wife with two small children. They'd sold the house because of faulty wiring... "Hmm," he said. Spirits could cause power shorts like that if they were active. But nothing like this had ever happened to the family. All of them were alive and kicking to this day. Something must have angered the spirit for it to all of a sudden start acting up...

Slipping further back in time, he found two other families that had lived there. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened, everybody living normal, boring lives. Nothing that would explain the spirit or the ring.

The next owners of the house sent up a giant red flag in Sam's head. All that he could find on them was a newspaper article from 1956. **Two Killed in House Fire, Arson Suspected.** Maybe Dean would recognize them. "Hey, Dean, take a look at this."

Getting no response, he glanced down at where his brother was sitting on his chest. "Dean?"

To his disbelief, Dean had already nodded off, bad arm still slumped against the ice. No wonder the room had become so quiet. Usually when Dean was around he always found it hard to concentrate on reading. "You know, for someone who never sleeps, you always fall asleep real fast whenever we start any research." Sam said dryly.

Still getting no response, he gently lifted the bag of ice away, cupping his hand under Dean when the little hunter slumped to the side, still fast asleep. Once he was settled on the hand, Sam was surprised when his big brother slung a small arm around the closest finger to him, cuddling up. A fond smile passed over Sam's face at the vulnerable action. The trust Dean showed in him by falling asleep like this was amazing. He wouldn't let Dean down, no matter what.

Lifting up Dean, he took the opportunity to check Dean over without worrying about freaking him out. He was still worried about the arm, and who wouldn't be curious to hold someone barely three inches tall? His own brother was now smaller than his fingers, even when fully stretched out, draped casually across the hand. He seemed so... fragile. The last word Sam had ever thought he'd use to describe Dean, of all people. But now it looked like a stiff wind could blow him away. _Or a sneeze... _Sam thought worriedly. From this point of view, the amulet that Dean wore around his neck was practically invisible, a little speck of gold against the black shirt. Sam could vaguely make out the red mark on Dean's shoulder from his injury... his arm was still swollen from being dislocated. He brushed a finger lightly against the shirt Dean had on to reveal more of the arm. It was looking much better now, far less swollen from when he'd first found Dean. The mark from Cass was a tiny tattoo of a hand, barely visible against the red shoulder.

The sensation of holding his own brother between his fingers like this sent a shiver up Sam's back, the knowledge of holding someone else's life in his hands... it felt familiar. Powerful. He was almost reminded of the feeling he got when he was exorcising demons with Ruby. The exhilaration that came every time...

With an angry sigh at himself, Sam pushed those thoughts out of his head. This was DEAN. His brother, his partner, the one person in the world who'd believed in Sam even after he'd given up on himself. Who would do anything for him, even go to Hell. Just because he was a little smaller now didn't change any of that. And there was no way Sam would do anything that would put Dean at risk. Not when Dean needed him more than ever. It was one of the few times in their life Sam could take care of Dean instead of the other way around.

He carefully moved Dean over to the shirt on the nightstand, wishing he could do more to help. He gently pulled his finger out of Dean's grip once he was settled on the shirt, doing his best to not wake his sleeping brother. At the least, he figured Dean could use the rest with everything that had happened that day. And it was so rare he ever saw Dean sleep these days, plagued by nightmares as he was, he didn't want to risk waking him. Once Dean was settled in the shirt, Sam pulled the collar of the shirt over the prostrate form, essentially tucking him in.

Going back to the newspaper article, he read up carefully, wanting to be as prepared as he could. It seemed that both husband and wife had been caught in the fire. No reason was given for the arsonage. Richard and Belinda Greene. He committed both names to memory, knowing that there might be records that hadn't made their way online yet down at the library.

* * *

><p>Dean found himself waking up to sunlight streaming in the blinds, falling directly on where he was sleeping. Grumbling, he tried to bury his head in his pillow to escape the light, hoping to sneak in more sleep. It didn't work out the way he planned though. His pillow was missing. Groping around blindly, he bumped into a flat piece of fabric and tugged on it briefly. It didn't budge. He couldn't remember putting anything like that in his bed. The weirdness of everything forced his mind closer to consciousness.<p>

Blearily, he pulled his head up, blinking a few times to clear the sleep from his eyes. For a few moments he thought he was still sleeping. Nothing was familiar. He was laying on a huge expanse of black fabric, far larger than any bed he'd ever slept on and stretching out in all directions. And the fabric he'd grabbed onto... Awareness slammed back into him when he realized he'd grabbed a huge _shirt tag._ He leaped to his feet in shock. _No, no, no... I thought it was just a dream..._

He found himself standing on a nightstand, dwarfed by his own shirt he'd slept in. At least Sam had grabbed a clean shirt from his bag... All he could remember from the end of the night was sitting on Sam's chest, watching his brother look up the former owners of the house it all had happened at. The computer had been the size of a movie theater screen, though he'd been distracted from it multiple times by the sight of his brothers massive arms moving to either side of him. At times he almost had felt trapped there, surrounded like that.

Other times, he felt safer than he ever had before. He was protected on all sides by his giant of a brother. He'd never felt safety like that before. Sam would never let anything happen to him, and the reassuring drumming of his brothers heart under him reinforced those thoughts. He'd never known how much movement happened on a chest, with the beating heart coupled with the steady up and down motion of breathing, nonstop action on a still world.

To distract himself from these thoughts, he'd concentrated on what Sam had up on the screen. He'd managed to be so focused on the research it hadn't even occurred to him how strange his situation was for a few blessed moments. Then... nothing. He must have drifted off at some point. He sighed, realizing how disappointed Sam must have been. He couldn't even stay awake to help solve his own damn problem.

He glanced at the bed behind him. The bed was empty, but the covers were disturbed, so Sam must have been there not long ago. Realizing he could hear water running in the background, he figured Sam was getting a shower. Yet another thing Dean was too handicapped to manage on his own. He stretched his arms over his head, still feeling the strain in his left. The pain level was far lower than it had been the night before, so he was definitely getting better now. Gingerly he touched the cut on his forehead. It was painful, but had closed up, so one less thing to worry about.

Spotting his jacket and boots lying next to the shirt, he strolled over. They were so out of place, surrounded by normal sized objects on the nightstand. An alarm clock as tall as Dean, a towering lamp, even an abandoned pen, stretching out at least twice as long as Dean. Once he reached his clothes, the first thing he did was grab his phone and shove it into his jeans pocket. No way he was getting caught again without it. Who knew what else this curse might have in store from him...

While waiting for Sam to get out of the bathroom, he ran through a small workout to keep his mind off things. He had to go a little slower than he was used to because of his injury, but by the time Sam came out into the room he had a good sweat going.

Sam sat down on the bed next to where Dean was standing. "Hey, how you feeling today?" He leaned forward to peer down at Dean, concern etched on his face.

Standing his ground, Dean said, "I'm fine. Swellings down on my shoulder." He met Sam's gaze with his arms crossed. "Why'd you let me fall asleep last night?" He couldn't help but feel annoyed that he'd slept through everything.

Sam gave a small smile at that. "I wasn't about to wake you up when you don't sleep as it is. It's not like you could have done much at your size, anyway." He briefly leaned over Dean to grab his laptop from the floor, causing Dean to back away. "But I did find a picture I wanted you to take a look at. So far, our most likely candidates for vengeful spirit," he loaded the screen up, "are these two."

Examining the screen, Dean gave a gasp of recognition. He pointed. "Her. That's the lady who tossed me like a football before you found me like this."

Sam took a look at the woman. "Belinda Greene. She and her husband died in a house fire in 1956. Most of the house survived and was rebuilt, but both of them were caught in the worst of it." He peered down at Dean. "I'm thinking we should pay the library a visit. That's all I could find about them online. They might have more records kept at the library that haven't found their way online, yet."

"Hey, whatever it takes. I don't want to be stuck like this any longer than I have too." Dean grabbed his jacket and boots, sitting down on the table to pull them on. "But we should make a stop at the house first. I think we should take another look for that girls phone. I know why we couldn't find it now."

"Yeah, I figured." Sam gave a brief sigh. "At least her phone call to her sister makes sense now. Shrank by the ring, she must have got teleported like you to the yard, and got attacked by some animal. Poor girl." He went to get his boots on as well.

"You hungry for some breakfast?" Sam asked once he was finished.

"Have you ever known me to say no to food?"

Going over to the fridge, Sam threw a smirk over his shoulder. "Too bad. I was hoping to have this all to myself." He pulled out the slice of pecan pie he'd been saving, brandishing it like he'd just won the world cup.

Dean shot to his feet. He remembered having a dream like this once before. The slice of pie was bigger than he was. He slurped down the drool that formed at the sight. For the first time he didn't complain when Sam picked him up off the nightstand, carrying him over to the pie.

Once he set Dean next to the pie, he gave a frown. "I don't have anything for you to eat with though."

"Not a problem." Dean was already digging into the pie, shoveling through the gooey interior eagerly. This was the best wake up call he'd had in ages. He gathered enough from the pie and sat down a little ways from the slice, studiously ignoring Sam as his brother ate the rest of the slice, cutting away chunks half the size of Dean, easily. Sam might be his brother, but it was unsettling when he realized _he_ was bite-sized now.

After they'd both finished, Sam handed Dean a small napkin to wipe off the pie filling with a smirk. From the look of things, Dean managed to get more of the pie on him than in him, most likely from trying to eat the gooey pie without utensils. After wiping himself down, Dean stood back up, stretching out his arms. "Let's get this show on the road."

Sam held his hand out to Dean, who climbed aboard far more willingly than the day before. Dean held on to the thumb next to him for balance as Sam walked to the door and out into open air. He shielded his eyes, briefly blinded by the brightness outside.

Just as he was getting adjusted to the light, the hand he was standing on jerked back without warning, knocking Dean down on his butt. Before he could demand an explanation for the rough ride, he found himself dumped into Sam's jeans pocket. His freakin' pocket! Landing on something metal, Dean gave a brief groan of pain at the shock. "Son of a bitch," he muttered. _What the hell was that for?_ he thought angrily. He punched the side of the pocket his brothers leg was on as hard as he could manage, hoping Sam could feel it. Trying to stand up, the metal shifted under him, causing him to fall to the bottom of the pocket again.

Wondering what the hell he was standing on that kept moving, Dean pulled out his flashlight, briefly illuminating the small area. _It's my keys,_ he thought with wonder. Each key was easily at least half his size, some bigger. He was THAT small. Wondering why the hell Sam had tossed him in there, he stood quiet for a moment, listening to the outside world. He could hear his brothers voice rumbling over him, and was followed by a feminine voice. _Must have dropped me in when he saw her coming._ Dean thought, still disgruntled. _Could at least give a guy some warning._ It wasn't a great feeling, having so little say in his own fate.

After a few minutes of listening to the girl compliment Sam on his car _my car, dammit! Not his!_ Dean heard footsteps walking away, and above him Sam let out a heartfelt sigh. A moment later, a massive hand reached into the pocket, easily scooping up Dean and the keys. Dean tried not to read into the fact that he was so small, he could be easily picked up _with_ his keys and still have plenty of room to move about on the hand.

After Sam unlocked the Impala and climbed in, he lifted Dean up to eye level. "You alright?" He asked, giving Dean a concerned look. "I didn't... hurt you?"

"Yeah, I'm just awesome." Giving Sam a glare, he pulled himself back into a standing position on the palm, wishing he could pull off a more intimidating look from three inches tall. What he wouldn't give for this to be over. "What the hell's up with just tossing me in your pocket like spare change?"

Sam gave a slight snort at that, unaffected by Dean's glare. "Don't tell me you wanted to hit on her. I think right now she's a _little_ out of your league."

Dean shifted uncomfortably at Sam's tone, not finding the joke particularly funny, considering his circumstances. "That's not what I mean and you know it. I'm not just some toy you can toss around. How do you think it feels to be small enough to be shoved in a pocket and you can't do anything about it?"

Sam visibly wilted at that. "I'm sorry, man. It's just... I don't want anything to happen to you, you know? Do you have any idea how fragile you are like this?" He touched Dean's good shoulder lightly with a finger from his other hand, easily covering the top of Dean's arm with just the tip. Dean froze in place to avoid flinching away from the massive finger, not wanting to prove Sam right. "I'll never forgive myself if I let anything happen to you." He held Dean closer to his face, puppy dog eyes out in full force.

Unable to stay mad at his brother, Dean tried to push Sam's face away, an impossible task considering his lacking size. Luckily for him, Sam took the hint, moving back to give him room. The puppy dog eyes still got him every time. "It's alright. Just... warn me next time. Or something. OK?"

Sam gave a smile at Dean's tone, knowing Dean well enough to know he was forgiven. "You bet."

Dean put on an uncertain smile for Sam's sake, determined to soldier on through the discomfort. "'Sides, she was more your type... being a giant and all."

"Yeah, whatever you say, small fry." Straightening in the seat, Sam glanced around the car. "So, you want to sit on the seat again like yesterday, or do you want to sit on my shoulder? I figured you might want to see what's going on outside the car."

Dean pointed. "Shoulder." It might be high up, but he'd hated not being able to see where they were going yesterday. Not to mention how much smaller it made him feel, having _everything_ soar above his head. He'd take the height over that, any day. At least if he was sitting up on Sam's shoulder he could pretend at normal for a minute. The hand he was on moved over to the shoulder, staying steady as he stepped off. Sam's shoulder shifted uncomfortably under his step, the small motion close to an earthquake from Dean's perspective. "Stop movin'!" He couldn't help snapping while he wobbled on the shoulder, trying not to fall off.

Sam's hand came back up to steady him, huge fingertips brushing against Dean's shoulders. "Sorry," Sam said. "It just feels so odd with you up there."

His hand lingered over Dean protectively while he got settled against the side of Sam's neck, the only place he felt safe so high up. He saw Sam glancing at him from the rearview mirror, worry apparent in his eyes. "I'm fine," Dean batted at the fingers still hovering in his personal space, hating being fussed over. Sam lowered his hand with a smile at Dean's stubbornness.

Still trying not to squirm, Sam started up the Impala. He pulled out into the road, heading back to Katie's house.


	5. Of Spiders and Boots

It was approaching midday when they arrived at the large house again. Dean scanned the area from his shoulder perch, amazed at how different everything was now that he was so much smaller. From this size even the house seemed blurred by the distance. He kept a careful eye out, checking to see if anything had changed since yesterday.

Sam pulled the car up to where they'd been parked the day before. Turning off the car, he caught Dean's eyes in the rearview mirror. "So, you ready?"

Dean swung his legs off the shoulder. "Yeah, sure." He still couldn't help bracing himself when the huge hand rose towards him. He was gently scooped up into Sam's fist, arms and legs confined by huge fingers. To his dismay, he found he was starting to get used to being carried like this. Sam held him like that loosely while he grabbed his salt gun from the back seat and locked up the car.

The fist opened up once Sam straightened, sending Dean tumbling into the center of the palm, still off balance from all the unexpected movement around him. He briefly flailed his arms, trying to catch his balance right before he crashed in a heap on the hand.

"Shit, sorry!" Sam said, aghast. Putting the gun down on the car, he reached his other hand towards Dean, carefully helping him back to his feet with a finger. Dean tried to push the finger away, wanting to preserve what little there was left of his dignity in this situation. Considering the sheer size of his brothers' hand, he was mostly unsuccessful. It was like trying to push away an overly helpful truck.

Eventually noticing Dean's discomfort, Sam drew his hand away. He gathered the gun again and started towards the house. Dean braced himself against his brothers' chest, keeping his balance as best he could with the constant rocking motion from Sam's gait. When Sam reached the steps, it became more like trying to stay on your feet during an earthquake. The fingers curled up around him once he was tossed to his knees, lightly holding him in place. He wasn't released until they were standing outside in the garden again. Neither of them mentioned it.

Dean shielded his eyes against the glare of the sun. Not a cloud was visible in the sky. Sam lifted him up so they were eye level again. "Alright. Do you remember where the signal from the girl's phone came from when we were here yesterday?"

Dean turned in place, actively working at keeping his mind off the height by pretending he was normal sized. He was almost successful. Almost. He pointed towards the bushes lining the small garden path. "It was over there by the path. And when we called her phone, the sound was strongest right by that bush."

Sam moved over to the path. He slowly knelt down next to the bush, lowering the hand Dean was standing on right by his knee. Dean hopped off. He found that the more he traveled by hand, the more he appreciated solid, _unmoving_ ground under his feet. Pausing for a moment, he took in the view from the ground. "Dude, it looks like something out of Jurassic Park."

"What do you mean?"

"It's like that scene from the movie when they're all running around shouting 'Don't go into the long grass!' And of course they all do and the raptors have a field day with them. Probably the easiest meal they ever nabbed."

"Dean, what are you talking about?"

He gestured around him at the lawn. "The grass! It looks straight out of the movie!"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Alright there, sparky. Try not to run into the _long grass_ on me. We don't need you to be raptor bait today." Looking around, Dean found himself agreeing with gigantor. The grass in some parts if the lawn was over his head. No one had mowed since Katie's disappearance. Sam would have trouble finding him in that jungle.

Sam moved his hand away from Dean, standing back up. The ground shook slightly when Sam stood back up. Dean cast a glance over his shoulder, slightly nervous when he saw the sheer size of the boots standing next to him. This was his first time standing on the actual ground since this whole shrinking business started, and it wasn't a pleasant experience. The scale of everything around him seemed determined to rub his nose in how helpless he was. Even his own brother seemed closer to a skyscraper like this. He just wasn't going to get used to it.

Sam cleared his throat above Dean. Dean took a few steps back, barely able to see Sam's face from where he was standing. "I'm gonna give her phone a call, Dean. See if you can find it." The massive feet backed away from the bush, giving Dean space. He felt surprisingly exposed now. He hated to admit ever needing help, but left unprotected on the ground like this gave him an itch under his skin, knowing he wouldn't be able to defend himself against most threats this way.

Far above Dean's head, Sam dug his cell phone out of his pocket, dialing the number. Once it started ringing, he gave Dean a thumbs up. Dean wandered under the outskirts of the bush, examining the ground around his feet. He could still see the marks from where he'd brushed his hand over it the other day, when he was checking to see if anything was buried there. Remembering how easy that had been then and seeing now how huge the area he'd covered so easily with just a simple brush of his hand gave him an ache in his chest, longing for his world to snap back to normal. Of course, if it did go back to normal there was no chance in hell he'd ever find this damned cell phone.

After a few moments waiting there, he heard a ringing start to his left. Quickly running over to where the sound was coming from, he slid to his knees. Not spotting anything, he started digging in the dirt he'd loosened the day before, right where the sound was coming from. It was only a moment before a small pink flip phone slid into his hands. No wonder he hadn't seen it yesterday, it was only a little bigger than the hunks of dirt it was laying in. He'd probably stared right at it, never seeing it. It still had half a battery charge left. Brushing the dirt off, he answered the call, glancing towards his brother's massive shadow while he did. "Hey Sammy. Lookie what I found."

"Good, so we weren't going crazy yesterday when we could hear it but not see it." One of the boots took a step towards Dean while he was talking, crushing grass as tall as Dean beneath it. Most likely Sam didn't even think twice of the movement, but Dean found himself backing away just to be safe. You couldn't be too careful when you were small enough to get smooshed. "Is there anything else around? If her phone is there..."

"Yeah, she might be around too." He hung up the phone, scanning his surroundings nervously. Farther under the bush, the sun was almost completely blocked from sight. The darkness in there felt oppressive to him, knowing what could be hiding in there, all of it made to function at this size, unlike him. At least Sam was close by, relatively speaking. Pulling out his flashlight, he walked deeper into the branches.

The branches stretched above his head, blocking most of the entrances into the bush. He hopped over low hanging branches in his way, darting around the leaves. A cobweb was draped across his pathway, stretching far up into the bush, so far up he couldn't see where it ended. Thick, cable-like strands stuck to the leaves on both sides of the small path he was walking down. He had no doubt that he'd be caught if he was to touch any. Dean drew his handgun, heart pounding in his chest. There was no path around the web, so he approached it slowly. Brandishing the flashlight, he went to knock some of the strands out of the way with it. Hearing a rustling to his right, he twisted, pointing the light where the sound originated from.

For a moment, he thought it was just another branch draped across the path. Then it moved, jerking towards a thick orange and brown body, with white markings covering the abdomen. Dean backed away slowly, hoping he hadn't been spotted. He brought his handgun to bear on it, wishing he had real shells for his sawed-off. A handgun might not be powerful enough for this. It had nowhere near the penetrating power that real shotgun shells would give him. The spider rose up from behind the leaf it had been resting by, orange and white legs extending in Dean's direction as it came out. Thick hairs bristled along the legs. Dean saw a thread of its web connected to the ground next to where it had been hiding. It slowly turned towards him, black eyes pointed his way, fangs clicking ominously.

Dean continued to back away. If he could get out from under the bush before it jumped him, Sam could take care of it. This was not something he wanted to take on alone at his current size. As it came fully into view, he saw the spider's body itself was easily the size of a Yorkie, 4 inch fangs sticking from its mouth. If you added its legs into the mix, it stretched out as long as a German Shepard. Even after all the monsters and creeps he'd fought in a long life of hunting, this was one of the creepiest, most disgusting... things he'd ever run into.

It skittered across the ground, stalking him carefully. It moved far quicker than he could, circling around him and blocking him from the edge of the bush. Flexing its powerful legs, it leaped for him. Dean dove to the ground, twisting out of its way and managing to get two shots off from his handgun as he dodged. The shots ricocheted off the exoskeleton, barely nicking the body. Cursing, Dean scrambled back to his feet, and booked it towards the light before it could come after him again.

Above him, he heard his brother yelling "Dean?! What's going on?!" There was no time for him to answer, because that was the moment the spider managed to catch him, legs pawing up his jacket, curling around his shoulders. His handgun was thrown from his grip, skidding across the ground. The legs were easily as thick as his wrists, the exoskeleton acting like a suit of armor as they crushed Dean towards the body of the spider. The black, dead eyes stared straight into his, showing his reflection staring back at him as it brought its fangs to bear against him. Distantly, he became aware of the world around brightening, Sam's huge hands above him pulling up the bottom branches of the bush to reveal Dean struggling with the spider. This simple action from Sam was what saved his life.

The moment the light struck the spider, it recoiled, fangs mere inches away from contact with his chest. It gave him enough leeway that Dean was able to twist free of the legs wrapped around him before it bit into him with those deadly fangs. He slammed into the ground hard on his back with a groan, distantly hearing Sam shout "Dean!" again. He ignored his brother, focusing on survival.

The spider recovered quickly, advancing again. Exposed or not, now that it had its prey in sight it wasn't about to let him go. As it stalked closer, Dean stayed flat against the ground, except for his knees, which he kept slightly cocked, preparing for his moment. From this position Dean watched the spider approach, carefully gauging the distance between them. The second the spider was close enough, he slammed both feet forward as hard as he could. His left boot got a solid connection against the abdomen, sending the spider skidding across the ground from him. It slid to a stop a few feet away, quickly pulling its legs back under it for another go.

He was about to crawl back up to his feet and make another break for the light when out of nowhere, a massive boot slammed down on the spider, less than five feet away from Dean's legs. It rocked the ground in a tremendous quake, knocking the wind from his lungs. The spider was crushed from sight, pulped in less than an instant. It happened so fast there wasn't even time for the spider to react. The aftershock knocked Dean down again, body shaking from how close he'd been to being crushed to a pulp with the spider. You wouldn't even be able to tell he was human if he got crushed like that. He'd just be a splatter of red goo to be scrapped off his brother's boot, like parking lot bubblegum.

The boot slowly lifted away. Clouds of dirt swirled in the air, disturbed by the sudden motion. Where the spider had been, there was no sign it had ever existed. Dean couldn't stop his arms and legs from shaking, part adrenaline from the fight and part fear of what had just happened. He could barely wrap his head around it. While he was still trying to pull himself back together, a huge hand reached down from above, fingers gently wrapping around his shoulders and helping him to his feet. Dean struggled to untangle himself from the massive fingers that formed a supportive cage around him, still in shock. He couldn't stop himself from stumbling backwards, away from Sam. Away from danger. He would have fallen over again if the hand hadn't still been there, carefully catching him when he started to fall. He managed to right himself, finally pulling completely away from the massive hand, heart still racing, hands on his knees for balance.

"Dean? You ok?" came Sam's voice from above, far softer this time, sounding anxious. He had a hard time standing now that he was free of Sam's fingers, legs still wobbling like jello from his close call with the boot. Even though he knew intellectually Sam would never have done anything that might harm him, from this point of view it was a whole different story. It was a real eye opener, seeing how easy it would be for him to end up crushed. He never wanted to get up close and personal with a house-sized boot again.

"Y-yeah, I'm... I'm good." Pushing himself to a stand, he was finally able to bring himself to glance up at Sam, blocking out the sun from above like a living mountain, fully aware that Sam had just saved his life. And with a much better understanding of how powerless he truly was compared to even his brother now. "T-thanks, Sammy." His words still shook from the lingering fear he couldn't dispel.

More than ever he wanted this nightmare to be over. He never wanted to be afraid of Sam again. It was a sobering reminder of his current helplessness.

Sam smiled down at him, worry front and center in naturally expressive eyes. "You don't have to go back in, chances are with things like that creeping around, there's not much hope for the girl. You should stay out here." He reached his hand towards Dean again, intentions clear from the set look on his face.

Dean backed away quickly, throwing his hands out to stave off Sam. He wouldn't stand a chance at this size once Sam got ahold of him. He knew his brother all too well. "No, wait! I have to be sure. I NEED to be sure. I can't take any chances she's ok and living through this nightmare alone."

The huge hand hesitated mere inches away from Dean at his words, fingers longer than he was tall twitching in anticipation. Before Sam could change his mind and grab him anyway, Dean took advantage of the momentary hesitation, ducking back under the bush. Once out of sight, he managed to calm his shaking shoulders at last, regaining some composure. A few deep breaths calmed his nerves even more. He grabbed his gun from the ground, keeping it out and cocked just in case.

Shade returned as Sam released the branches he'd been holding with a worried sigh. Dean jumped slightly as they closed around, sealing him off from his brother once more in the darkness of the leaves. A few large leaves fluttered down near him from the shaking branches, knocked off by the motion. Outside the bush, he heard Sam step away.

He returned to where he'd been before being jumped, heart rate slowly returning to normal. After passing the remains of the web by, he directed the flashlight straight ahead. He swept the beam of light over the ground, noticing that the entire area had been disturbed, large swaths of dirt thrown up by something large and fast. Easily bigger than the spider he'd just wrestled with. _Super._ Just what he needed to deal with, something larger than the spider that had been kicking his ass. Beyond those marks, something else caught his eye.

Pushing past a few low hanging branches, he knelt down. A woman's tank top was laying on the ground in a heap, dirt covering most of it. If it wasn't for the pink color of it he would have never noticed it. "Oh, no," he murmured, gently lifting the shirt. Brushing off a small beetle the size of his hand, he took a better look at it. Large claw marks had shredded all sides. Blood stains covered all sides. He hadn't had much hope for the poor girl, but there was a part of him wanting to find her alive and well, maybe just a little shaken up. But seeing the state the shirt was in, there wasn't much hope for that now.

A few feet away from where the shirt had been laying, he found a mostly intact wallet. Opening it up, he found a bit of money, a few credit cards and the girls driver's license. "Katie," he read off it. So it was definitely her that the shirt had belonged too. Not that he'd had any actual doubt. The wallet had somehow managed to escape the blood spatters that coated the t-shirt and was still in fairly good shape.

His phone started to go off, startling him in the silence of the dark. He saw it was his brother. Answering it testily, he said, "Yeah, what? I'm busy down here."

When Sam answered, he heard the voice echoing between the phone he was holding and the far more powerful version from far above him. "Just making sure everything's ok. You're completely out of sight from here, and it's been a few minutes."

"Yeah, well I'm almost done. Girl's definitely dead. I found what's left of her clothes. Looks like the poor girl was ripped to shreds from what's left over." He closed his cell, briefly glancing behind him. Sam hadn't been kidding. The outside world was walled completely from sight by the leaves, ominous shadows stretching over him. Peering at the green canopy stretching over his head, blocking out all sight, he found it strange that his brother was so close, yet at the same time so far away. He scuffed his boot on the ground, momentarily fascinated by the size of the dirt particles in comparison to his boot. It was more like walking on a gravel driveway than the soft dirt he'd stood on yesterday. Every day, regular things were so different from this point of view.

Bringing his focus back to the job, he took the shirt with him, continuing on in the same direction. He pushed leaves bigger than him out of the path. On his way he managed to find her bloodied shoes, a fallen pocketbook that had another huge slice taken out of it just like the shirt, and last but not least her pants. "I think I'm gonna be sick," he said, putting a hand over his mouth. While there was nothing in any of her other clothes, the pants still had a bit of... Katie... in them and from what he could tell, the rest had been... eaten. "Gross," he muttered, dropping the chewed up pants back on the ground. "Poor girl."

Tucking her phone and wallet into a pocket, he took everything with him but the pants. On his way out, he jumped quickly past the remains of the spider web, not wanting to get tangled in the cable-like, sticky strands. He'd never live that one down, if Sam had to get him free. Thick strands still swayed in the air, torn when Sam had pulled the branches up to find him. He relaxed when he stepped out of the shadow at last, back into the light, peering up at his colossal brother. Before he could call out to let Sam know he was done, he found his eyes pulled away by something glinting at him from behind Sam's legs.

Distracted, Dean peered in the direction of the glint. He froze when he saw a massive black cat staring at him from the shade of the oak tree that was in the middle of the construction area. Two eyes were locked directly on him, one green and one blue reflecting the sun. He slowly moved towards Sam, who still hadn't noticed Dean had come out from under the bush yet. "Sam?" He called up, not taking his eyes off the cat for a moment. He tightened his grip on the handgun. He wanted to get off the ground before the cat decided he was a chew toy. He'd had enough of that with the spider.

"Hmm?" Sam looked down at his brother, finally noticing he was out from the bush. Noting how tense Dean was, he glanced in the direction of Dean's gaze and felt a chill run up his spine when he spotted the cat. He quickly scooped his brother up into a fist, fingers wrapping protectively around the vulnerable hunter. This time Dean didn't struggle or argue, glad to be off the ground and safe. Cupping the hand holding Dean against his chest, Sam slowly backed towards the house. "Dean, does that cat look - different - to you?"

"Aside from it staring me down like I'm the main course at an all-you-can-eat buffet?"

"Yeah, aside from that."

"No, not really." Dean squirmed in his brothers' grasp, attempting to turn towards the cat again. The fingers holding him in place were too strong for him to move. The familiar feeling of helplessness clutched at his chest when he found himself fruitlessly struggling. Realizing he had Dean trapped, Sam released some of the pressure holding Dean against his chest, giving him enough freedom to twist around. He took a longer look at the cat from the safety of his brothers' hand.

Sam glanced down at Dean, catching his eyes. "From the way it's eyeing you up, I get this weird feeling it hates us. I've _never_ seen an animal look at someone with actual hatred in its eyes."

Dean frowned at that. "Yeah, that is weird." They both turned back to the cat.

It was gone.

* * *

><p>"What the hell was that?" Dean's tiny voice rang out in the front seat of the Impala. It fell flat on the dead air inside, making his voice sound smaller than it was.<p>

"I have no idea." Sam rubbed the back of his neck, still holding Dean at face-height while they talked. "I've never seen a cat look like that. The expression on its face was almost... human."

"Yeah, and what's up with it disappearing like that? Cats don't just magically vanish!" Dean threw his hands up in the air, starting to pace on Sam's palm. Sam had to work to hold steady under the feel of the little boots walking on his hand, not wanting to knock the tiny hunter over. The last thing he wanted to do was freak Dean out any more than he already was after the spider and the cat.

That moment back in the yard, hearing the small gunshots go off by his feet, he'd never been so afraid for Dean. His brother would never have wasted his shots unless he was in danger. And when he'd pulled up the branches and saw his tiny brother pinned under a spider, Sam had never felt more useless. Here he was, a giant compared to Dean and he hadn't been able to do _anything_ to help Dean until Dean managed to escape the spider by himself. Any attempt to get the spider off Dean might have resulted in him injuring his brother more than the spider, Dean was so fragile now in comparison to Sam.

Once Dean had managed to knock the spider away, he'd seen his chance, stomping on the spider before it could assault his brother again. Seeing Dean collapsed on the ground next to his boot had been an eye opener. He'd never thought of his big brother as fragile before, but that was exactly what Dean was compared to him right now. Tiny and helpless and fragile. One wrong move from Sam and he would end up just like the spider, and Dean wouldn't be able to do anything about it. All because of him.

Afterwards, he'd never seen Dean look so pale and shaky before in his life. And he knew HE was the one Dean was afraid of. It broke his heart, seeing such fear in Dean, someone he knew was almost impossible to scare. Hell, Dean was one of the bravest people he knew. All he wanted was Dean's trust, and to make sure nothing happened to the miniature hunter, and here he was terrorizing him more than anything.

He hadn't even scraped the spider's smooshed guts off his boot until he was sure Dean was out of eyesight. Seeing something the same size as him crushed to a pulp like that would probably have alarmed Dean even more at that time, considering his circumstances.

Dean had tossed the shredded shirt and the girl's tiny shoes on Sam's palm next to him as soon as they were in the car. Pausing in his pacing, he glanced down at the ruined garments. "I wonder why it went after her, too. Spirits always have a reason."

"Something's going on here," Sam said, turning his attention to the house again. "I think it goes past just a spirit. I've never heard of anything like this before." He sighed. "Let's get to the library. Maybe we can find some answers there." He lifted his hand back up to his shoulder, managing to stay still this time when Dean scrambled up. Feeling better once his brother got settled against his neck, he started up the car, tucking the girl's clothing and shoes into his side pocket.

Pulling out onto the main road, Sam wondered out loud. "So we have a vengeful spirit, a ring we think is cursed, and a cat that apparently wants you dead, and from what Jenny told us, I'm betting killed that girl. What the hell's the connection?"

"I dunno, but there is one thing I know." Dean grabbed onto Sam's shirt collar for balance when the car took a hard right.

"What's that?"

"I am not going to be kitty kibble."

Sam laughed. "Heh, we both agree there. And no more spider bait, either."

The rest of the drive passed uneventfully. Sam couldn't help tensing whenever they had to stop at a red light, worried someone was going to glance into the car and see the tiny hunter reclining against his neck. Finally reaching the library, Sam pulled the car into the lot, parking away from the other cars there. Turning off the Impala, he said to Dean, "So, how do you want to do this? We can't have anyone seeing you in there."

"Yeah, I know." Dean leaned back with a groan.

"You could always stay in the car if you're worried."

"I'm not worried! I just... don't like having to hide." Dean pushed off from Sam's neck, standing precariously on the shoulder. "I guess... pocket?"

Sam slid his hand up to Dean, waiting patiently for him to step on. He lowered the hand to the chest pocket on his jacket. "How's this?"

Kneeling down, Dean lifted up the pocket flap to peer in. "Its fine," he said flatly.

"You sure?"

"I said it's FINE, Sam!" With that, Dean dangled his legs off Sam's palm, jumping down into the dark pocket. He vanished from sight.

Sam sighed, knowing when Dean was acting like that things were far from 'fine.' He might be able to carry his brother around in his pocket, but he sure as hell couldn't get Dean to open up to him.

He pushed the flap of the pocket down, the finishing touch on concealing his brother from sight. He took a good, long look at himself in the rearview mirror, making sure that nothing was out of place. The lump that marked his brothers' body was barely visible against him, lost in the folds of fabric. If he didn't see it shift on its own from time to time or feel Dean moving against his chest he himself would have a hard time himself believing his brother was in there. Once he was certain Dean was safely hidden he got out of the Impala, walking into the library. There were only a few people around, since it was midday during the workweek.

He went up to the counter where the librarian was sitting. "Hello," she said, glancing up from the book she was reading, adjusting her glasses. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Yeah, actually." He leaned on the counter casually, trying to ignore the feeling of his brother shifting nervously in the pocket. This had to be one of the weirdest things they'd ever done. "I'm looking for information about the town, 50 years ago."

She gave him a shy smile, turning slightly red when she meet his eyes. "We have plenty of books on the history of the town." She checked her computer briefly. "All kept in the local section."

After she pointed him towards the back of the library, Sam walked back, trying to keep his steps steady. No matter what he did, the little lump on his chest bumped into him with each step. It couldn't be a pleasant experience for Dean. As quick as he could, he gathered up some promising material, carrying it into a deserted corner of the library. He checked around to make sure there was no one close, then reached into the pocket for Dean.

As soon as his hand brushed against Dean, he felt his older brother twist away, jumping in surprise. He pushed away any guilt he felt at startling his brother, quickly wrapping his hand completely around the tiny figure. The faster he got it over with the better for them both. A moment later Dean was standing on his palm, appearance far more rumpled than earlier.

* * *

><p>After he jumped down into the pocket, Dean braced himself against Sam's chest from the swaying. It made him feel more like he was trying to stand on a hammock, and gave him just about as much balance as one. He curled into the corner, finding it a bit more stable than the rest of the pocket. The light coming from above disappeared, casting him into near darkness. Very little light leaked into the pocket. Glancing up, he saw the top being pushed down by Sam, sealing him from view. A chill ran up his spine at the thought that he was so small no one but Sam would ever know he was there.<p>

Now that he was starting to get over the size thing, he could see how it could be an asset. Who would ever expect to have a person eavesdropping on them from three inches tall? It was better than using a microphone, a metal detector would never find him.

Then he felt Sam stand up out of the car. For the next few moments, he wasn't able to concentrate on anything but not losing his lunch. The pocket swayed the whole time Sam was walking, bumping him against the massive chest constantly. It was exactly what he imagined a boat stuck in a storm would feel like. The constant rocking movement finally came to a halt, and he heard his brother talking to a woman.

One the pocket stopped moving, he tried to shift to a better position, quickly growing uncomfortable in the cramped pocket. He was hoping to find a spot where he wouldn't swing as much. He felt Sam tense the moment he moved, huge muscles hardening behind him. Feeling a quick flash of the same intimidation from earlier, Dean settled back down, not wanting to annoy Sam after what happened earlier. _There's a first time for everything, _he mused to himself. But the feeling remained. This size thing was starting to mess with his head. He hoped he'd be able to get out of the pocket soon.

Once the rocking motion started up again, he closed his eyes, keeping his concentration on the case as much as he could. Anything to avoid any thought of motion or height. And, of course the fact that he was small enough to hide in a pocket. Sitting stretched out like this, his legs didn't even touch the opposite side of the pocket from where he was leaning. Resting his eyes helped a little, even though the pocket was becoming warmer, air thickening. He concentrated on breathing slowly to get rid of the rest of the nausea as he felt his brother sit down. In. Out.

In. Out.

In. O...

He was knocked out of his thoughts by a spark of pain when a massive finger brushed against his injured shoulder. Diving into the corner of the pocket, he realized it was just Sam, reaching in for him. Calming down, he relaxed slowly as the fingers wrapped around him completely. He was dropped unceremoniously into the other palm, brushing off his jacket to try and regain his composure.

"Some warning next time?" Dean said, disgruntled.

"Yeah, ok. Sorry." Sam scrunched his eyebrows together. "You feeling ok?"

"Yes, of course I am!" Dean turned away from him, seeing where he was for the first time. "I see you brought plenty of reading material."

"Yeah." Sam lowered his hand to the table, letting Dean hop off next to a stack of books taller than him. "Every book I could find about the town in the 50s." He opened up a hardbound book near Dean and grabbed another for himself. "So, time to study up."

Time passed silently between them for the next few hours. Sam kept a watchful eye out for any other patrons, warning Dean whenever anyone came close. The book stacks were perfect for hiding behind every time someone wandered too close. Dean hated every second of it, but the last thing he wanted to deal with was a stranger seeing him. Or even worse, a demon possessing some poor bastard and getting a whiff of Dean's 'problem.' He did NOT want to deal with demons at this size. Sam had managed to spread out their reading material to cover the table, preventing anyone from wanting to sit down near him.

It wasn't easy, but Dean managed to read the books on his own, standing on the pages to see the writing. It was an odd experience, standing on photos larger than he was. Flipping the pages was an extra workout. He refused Sam's offer of any help, unwilling to admit he was having trouble with something as simple as turning a page.

In the third hour, Sam straightened in his seat. "Dean! I found something." In his excitement, his voice dispelled the silence of the library, loud enough that for the first time Dean had to cover his ears. Surprised at his own volume, Sam hunched down in his seat, eyes flicking from side to side to see if anyone was coming. Dean smirked at the abashed expression on his giant brother's face.

Once he was sure no one had heard Sam's exclamation, Dean hopped down off his book, striding over to Sam. "Whatcha got?"

"Here." He gestured to the page he had open. "Back in the 50s, dear old Belinda was suspected of being a witch. Apparently, Richard was a very important man in those days. He had it all, riches, wealth, influence. When he married Belinda, the town was in an uproar. She was an outcast, living on the edge of town in a little ramshackle house. Unwanted, shunned by everyone. No one was able to prove anything, but apparently when he proposed to her out of the blue, the consensus was she had him under her influence. Before their surprise engagement, as far as I can tell, they had no prior contact."

Glancing up from the book he was reading from, Sam gave Dean a disturbed look. "Take a look at this. It's her wedding ring."

Dean hopped up onto the book, walking over to the picture Sam indicated. "I'll be damned." It was a dead ringer for the ring he had on his hand, a band of diamonds with two other bands of gold twisting around it.

"The article goes on. Seems that the town officials denounced her publicly as a witch after the wedding. She was a little upset at this, screaming at them all kinds of things, like how she was going," he paused for a moment, lightly nudging his brother to the side with his knuckle so he could read from the paragraph Dean was standing on, "to 'bring them down' and let them know their place. That night was the night the house was set on fire. She and her 'beloved' husband were sleeping in the bedroom. All that was found of them in the morning was ash and blackened bone." He sat back from the table.

Dean walked over the passages Sam had read from, taking it all in. "What year did all this happen during?" He said quizzically.

"Uhh..." Sam leaned forward again, scanning through the words quickly. He flipped to the page before, briefly forgetting that Dean was standing in the book. Covered by a page, Dean angrily shoved it back in Sam's direction as best he could. It still folded down around him, encasing him in a paper tunnel. "Shit, sorry," Sam said, grabbing back the page and holding it up so it wouldn't hit Dean again. "It all happened in March, 1956. Why?" He put the page back where it had started.

Dean straightened, brushing off his jacket while he sent a glare Sam's way. "Something I saw in one of the books I was reading." Jumping down from the book, he walked over to the pile of books Sam had stacked for him. He kicked the middle one. "It was in this book. There was a rash of deaths and disappearances during early fall of '56. Seemed strange to me at the time."

Sam pulled the book out, lifting it over Dean's head and started leafing through. "Do you remember where you saw this?" He lowered it back down to the table for Dean.

"Yeah." Dean tried to lift a few pages, but they were plucked from him by his little brothers' massive hand. In this fashion, he found the page he'd read earlier. Just as Sam was about to read from it, they both saw a shadow approaching their corner of the library. Dean was still diving for cover when he was easily scooped from the table without warning, Sam tucking him safely into his side jacket pocket right before the librarian reached them. Everything went dark.

"Hi, just wanted to make sure you were able to find what you were looking for," Dean heard the librarian's voice say. He could hear in her voice a flirting tone. _Wasting your time, sweetheart. _Sam was a lost cause when it came to flirting at the best times, and today was far from the best.

"Ah, yeah," Sam said, sounding a rattled by the close call. Still wrapped up in the giant fingers, Dean struggled to get free as a sudden wave of claustrophobia hit him. The fingers went slack while Sam's voice continued on overhead, "Found a ton of material on what I needed." As soon as Dean managed to free himself from the unmoving fingers, he gave the one closest to him a swift kick, still annoyed at being manhandled. There was no outward response to his kick, which irked Dean even more.

After a few more moments, he heard her footsteps dwindling in the distance. Sam didn't take him out right away though. He was left ruminating alone in the pocket, scrunched up uncomfortably next to the hand. It was at least three more minutes before the hand moved, scooping Dean up again. It gently dropped him back by the book he'd started showing Sam a few minutes ago.

Sam was still scanning through the page Dean had opened the book to. "Huh," he said. "This is pretty much a list of every town official."

Dean stepped up, deciding to ignore how he'd been shoved unwillingly into a pocket moments ago, following his rule if they didn't talk about it, it didn't happen. "Exactly. And from what you told me, it's a list of every person who denounced our little old wicked witch Belinda. Sounds like she got some good old fashioned revenge from beyond the grave."

Sam straightened suddenly. "That last thing she said to them... 'bring them down and put them in their proper place,' she was talking literally, wasn't she? She actually brought them down in size... they probably all died the same way as Katie, killed by animals. What a way to go."

"She must have cursed the ring before she died that night. And once she was burned, her spirit attached itself to it, using the curse to take her revenge. But... why did it start back up again all these years ago? Katie didn't have anything to do with any of those old guys, she moved here from out of state." Dean crossed his arms, frowning thoughtfully.

"I dunno. Did her spirit say anything to you when you got hit?"

Dean sat down on the edge of the book, stretching his legs out. "Something about 'he's mine.'"

Sam's eyes widened at this. "That's it!"

Dean glanced up at him. "What's it?" He asked, confused.

"She's still trying to keep Richard to herself!" He grabbed the book he'd been reading from originally, flipping a few more pages into it. "Here! Richard and Belinda's ashes were buried in the yard, and the oak tree was planted over them. She's trying to stop anyone from disturbing the gravesite and taking him away from her."

Dean raised his eyebrows in realization. "So once Katie decided to cut down the tree to build the addition to the house, she became target number one. Downsized for a sunroom. That must have awakened the spirit."

"Yeah, and we were poking around the yard right before you found the ring. Now that she's awake, it looks like she's gonna go after anyone who gets too close to the grave and dear old Richard. Hey, take a look at this." Sam gestured to part of the page he was reading.

Dean walked over, ruing the day when he could have seen everything on the table without having to hike all over it. He climbed up onto the page next to his brothers' hand. A shocked look came over his face. "Isn't that..."

"Yeah, it's the cat who was eyeing you up earlier. Looks like the kitty is definitely tied up in everything. It's weird though, it's been over 50 years since anything happened, how is the cat still around?" The cat was sitting on Belinda's lap, familiar dual tone eyes staring steadily up at them from the page. Dean shuddered at the look, remembering how the cat had been eyeing him up. Sam leaned back in his seat, stretching his arms over his head. "This is one determined witch."

"That's one word for her. I've got another one for her that rhymes with witch." Dean held his hand up, examining the ring for what felt like the millionth time. "We _have_ to find a way to burn this ring."

"Yeah, but first we have to get it off you. And if it's cursed, that's not going to be easy. Seems to me like she needs it to be on her victims for her mojo to work, so getting it off won't be a walk in the park." Sam started gathering up the books, making sure to stay clear of Dean. "I'm gonna bring a few of these back to the room to read over tonight. There might be something more about the curse in them." He held his hand out to Dean, fingers slightly curled in anticipation. "Ready?"

Dean climbed onto the palm, sighing inwardly at how commonplace this was becoming. "Back in the pocket?"

"Unless you have any better ideas."

The hand moved back up to his brother's chest. Dean quickly climbed in, darkness closing in on him once more.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **

Writing this part have me nightmares. God this gave me nightmares. My husband made fun of me for it, said I was doing it to myself. And he's right. I am arachnophobic in the worst way possible. But I needed to have this part. Ugggg. Poor Dean, the things I put him through. I had to DRAW a scale picture of the spider and Dean. It was awful.

The spider featured here is an _Araneus diadematus _(Cross Orbweaver). Very commonly found in Indiana. I did my research, lol. The one Dean runs into is a male, with its longer legs. It is also very large for a male, with a 12mm body.

So, next two chapters should be up this week. Just want to catch up to where my story is, then I'll go back to posting once a week.

Reviews are very welcome! I'd love to hear what you think of the story, and reviews make me eager to write more! (seriously)


	6. The Witches Ring

Dean hung out in Sam's pocket while his brother went into a diner to pick up some food. He didn't want to stay behind in the car this time, after everything that had happened during the course of the day. He couldn't help but be wary of being left on his own, even in the safety and comfort of his baby. He hated how vulnerable he was like this, without his brother around. Here, in the pocket he felt safe.

He could feel Sam stiffen anytime anyone came near him, just as nervous as around other people as Dean was. There were a ton of people at the diner, all waiting to sit. Sam shuffled nervously in the crowd, grateful because of his height, people have him a wide berth. It seemed like everyone was out of work and school at the same time, and they all had stuffed into the diner.

Muffled through the fabric, Dean could hear Sam thanking someone for the food. He sighed gratefully, glad they were almost done. He braced himself as Sam started to walk again, thumping in time against the chest behind him to the cadence of Sam's footfalls. He was getting used to the constant swaying while he was in here. His brother finally reached the car, Dean relaxing when he heard the familiar door open and close.

It was only a moment more before Sam's fingers scooped him easily out of the pocket. Sam held him in front of his face. "You alright?" He asked, looking worried.

"Yeah, it's not so bad once you get used to it." Dean gave his brother his most confident smile. The last thing he wanted was for Sam to worry even more about him. Sam didn't quite seem to buy it, but he lifted Dean back up to his shoulder right after. Dean settled back against Sam's neck, glad to be out of the pocket for a bit. Eventually though, they reached the motel room. Dean grumpily slid down to the pocket again. Sam carried everything into the room, closing the door and making sure the shades were tightly closed before pulling Dean out of his pocket.

Dropping Dean on the pillow closest to him, Sam walked back over to the kitchenette. "You want some of your cheeseburger, or do you want some granola?" He waved the granola bars he'd picked up at the store in Dean's direction.

"Funny. That's an actual question?" Dean said dryly, laughing. "Hey, you mind getting some more ice for my shoulder?"

"Sure." Sam grabbed the burger, tossing it into the microwave. He ran to the ice vending machine as quick as he could, not wanting to be gone any longer than he had to. Once he got back, he put the ice down near Dean, and a bit of the re-heated burger on a napkin. "Enjoy the king sized bed while it lasts," he said, cracking up a little when he saw Dean on the pillow. His brother's tiny form practically looked lost among miles of fabric.

If Dean replied, it was too low for Sam to make out. He grabbed one of his granola bars, unwrapping it while he pulled out the book he'd taken from the library on curses and hexes. It seemed legit, so he spent the rest of the night pouring over it, learning everything he could about the various magics of witches. The book had information he had never heard about before, so it was certainly a learning experience.

* * *

><p><em>Belinda watches the hunters from beyond the veil of death. She knows that her time is coming. Soon these threats will be eliminated and she will be left in peace with her beloved at last. She has waited so long for this... watching all those families live in her house, climb her beloveds tree...<em>

_Her strength is still so low from the girl she destroyed earlier, she has to bide her time. Waking up that way, seeing her beloveds tree being threatened destruction had given her true power at that moment. Targeting the girl as the source she had thrown everything she had at her. Shrinking her with the ring and transferring her to the yard were mere child's play at that moment. Maintaining the corporeal form of her familiar, still bound to her even in death itself, had sapped all her energy, weakening her._

_Seeing the hunters come to into her house, KNOWING what they'd do if they discovered her still there had infuriated her all over again. They would desecrate her grave, dig up her beloved. Separate them. Destroy their love. That's what all hunters did, after all. She could not allow that. While they traipsed all over her house, she gathered her strength, enough to at least move the ring where it would be found. Her curse on the ring gave her the needed power._

_The hunter had taken the bait, hurled and shrunk before he knew what was going on. Now, she only needs to finish the job and then take out his partner. Her strength has waned though. All that effort she expended on the girl has drained her, and she still has yet to recover. So for now, she can only manage small tricks. Little teleports. If she is lucky, one of them will destroy the hunter and take care of her threat, leaving her free to target the other hunter. Otherwise, soon she will be up to full power, and she will make SURE he is taken care of._

_Now, she looks down on the pillow he sleeps on. He has taken off his jacket, leaving his weapons laying on the pillow next to him. She will make him regret that. The tall hunter has fallen asleep, books still open, head on the table. Their guard is down now. Her strength is strong enough for another teleport now. She reaches out, feeling what is around the room within her range of power. Finding what she needs, she smiles. Now she reaches out to him, touching the thread that binds her, even in death, to the ring. She tweaks it, as only she knows how. It burns red hot with her touch. She concentrates her power, focusing everything she has on him, and he disappears, fading away. No trace remains of him in the room, and his exit is unnoticed by the other hunter, asleep as he is._

_Content for now, she allows herself to fade. Now it is time to build strength again and let nature run its course._

* * *

><p>Dean found himself falling asleep to the distant music of <em>Dr Sexy, MD<em> early on in the night. Normally he wouldn't be asleep for hours more, but being stuck small was kind of... boring. It's not like he could go to a bar.

Sam was sitting at the table across the room, pouring over the books. He hasn't looked in Dean's direction in ages. Dean didn't want to distract his brother from the research, and he couldn't help but feel like he'd be getting in the way if he asked to help. He had to be carried over, couldn't pick a book on his own, could barely turn the pages on his own... Useless. Fucking useless.

So he flopped back onto the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. He focused on one spot, tuning out everything else. For a few minutes at least, he was able to forget about his problem. Drifting off, the world slowly faded into dreams...

_...The grass gently waves in the soft breeze. Dean stands outside the car, and waits for Ben to get out of school. Today they are going to a baseball game together, and Ben has been waiting for this for the longest time. The school bell rings, and the kids pour out of the school. Dean spots Ben's head bobbing along in the sea of schoolkids, and waves at him. _

_Ben runs over. "Dean!" He says, slamming into Dean for a bear hug. They get into the car together, and Dean is driving next to Sam. "Where's the case?" He asks his little brother. _

_Sam looks at the paper he has been reading. "Los Angeles."_

_"Awesome, I've been wanting to go there," Dean says, for once excited about their destination. He guns the car, far exceeding the speed limit. He reaches to change the radio station, and the ring on his hand starts to burn._

_He is surrounded by fire. The burn starts on his finger, spreading slowly to cover his whole hand and then begins to climb his arm. Now he is in the rack again, Alastair staring down at him with his ice white eyes. "Shall we begin again?" He asks Dean as Dean feels his body return to normal. He starts in on Dean..._

_...the pain, the unending pain..._

_...fires burning...burning..._

_...Alistair laughing as the hooks dig deeper into Deans flesh, digging into every vulnerable part they can find and then fixing him to start anew..._

_...the chains release... he is falling... the world twists around him..._

...when out of nowhere Dean felt his shoulder slam into the ground with a dull metallic echo. He groaned, rolling over onto his back. "What the hell?" He grumbled as he sat up. Was Sam pranking him? No, that didn't make any sense. If Sam was pranking him, he'd probably wake up in a pink barbie bed, not in the dark, all alone. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he took a look at his surroundings.

Blackness surrounded him on all sides, pressing in. He went for his flashlight before remembering he'd taken off his jacket before falling asleep. His flashlight, guns, everything was currently sitting on a plushy pillow in their nice, mostly safe motel room. "Son of a bitch," he muttered, pulling himself to his feet. He'd left his boots on, luckily, so he still had his hidden dagger there. For what little good a dagger smaller than his hand would do him in a world of giants. _Better than nothing, I guess..._

Digging through his jean pockets, Dean found his cell phone and the matches from their last motel they'd stayed at before he was downsized. "Well, it's a start," he said, just to break the deafening silence. He lit one of the matches to see where he was before he gave Sam a call. Its faint, flickering light lit up a large, enclosed tunnel. The ceiling stretched far above his head, metal walls on either side. But the ceiling was far closer than it had been in the library or the motel. If he was a good judge of distance, he'd have to guess it no higher than a foot, foot and a half tall. Annoyed at how high up a mere one foot seemed, he stomped over to the closest side, listening to the dull metallic echo his boots made. Once he arrived, he ran his hand up the wall. His other hand started to burn, and he quickly glanced at it, worried the curse was still working on him. Luckily for him, it was just the match, burning out and singing his fingers.

Dropping the burnt out match to the floor, he lit up another one, walking down the tunnel. Arriving at one of the strange bumps on the wall, he saw that it was a screw. He realized where he was. _I'm in the air vents,_ he thought, surprised. He'd just never thought to see such a... big... air vent. He grabbed his phone, saying a silent prayer. _Please be awake, Sammy._

* * *

><p>Sam woke up to a ringing in his ear. Groaning, he pushed himself up. His back ached from sitting in the same position for hours. He slowly stretched, glancing around for the source of the ringing. Spotting his phone, he grabbed it. When he saw who was calling, his eyes went right to where he'd seen his brother last.<p>

Dean was gone. Again.

Fully awake, Sam cursed, flipping open the phone to answer it. "Dean?! What the hell happened?" He cried out, worry filling him. How had he fallen asleep like that?

"Sam! And here I thought you'd be hard to wake." A strained laugh came over the phone.

"Dean, what happened? Where are you?" Sam had to clutch the phone with both hands to stop it sliding from his slightly sweaty palms.

"I, ah, I think I'm in the vents. I woke up here a few minutes ago. Seems like our witchy curse has struck again."

Sam stood up. "Vents? Like the air vents?"

"Yeah, that's all I can think of. Big tunnel, all metal, and screws in the wall every 50 feet. Or, at least, 50 feet from my point of view. Dark, too. I don't have my flashlight with me, I think it's still on the bed with my jacket." Sam glanced over where he'd left his brother, and yes, Dean's jacket was still laying on the pillow next to the tiny indent that marked where Dean had been laying. More worry clenched Sam's chest when he remembered all Dean's weapons were usually kept in that jacket.

Sam walked over to where the vent in their room was next to the bed. Kneeling down next to it, he sized it up. "It might be a tight fit, but I can manage," he said to his brother. "Do you know where you are?"

"Sam, I can't see a foot in front of my face, and I'm going to run out of matches quick. What do you think." Past the aggravation he can hear in Dean's voice, Sam can hear a small sound of fear underlying his words.

"Alright dude, chill. I'll track the GPS on your phone, I should be able to find you quick that way. We'll get you out of there, just sit tight." He kept his voice steady and even, not wanting Dean to pick up on the worry he was feeling. No need to alarm Dean more. Sam snapped his phone shut. As fast as he could, he pulled up the site on his computer to track the GPS. Within a few minutes he had a basic location for Dean. It wasn't too far away from their room at his size, but Dean would be hiking for an hour in the dark to get back.

Sam grabbed a flashlight and a screwdriver from his stuff and went over to the vent. As quickly as he could, he removed all the screws from the vent and pulled it from the wall. He stuck his head in first, sizing it up. Definitely a tight squeeze. He crawled in, carefully keeping the flashlight pointed ahead of him. It was slow going, but he headed off in Dean's direction as fast as he could manage. There was no time to spare with Dean so vulnerable and unarmed. He doubted the witch had chosen the vents for their privacy.

* * *

><p>Ten minutes later, Dean felt like he was going out of his mind. He still had five matches left in the book, but he didn't want to waste them. Once they were gone, he was going to be stuck in absolute black. The light from his phone would only do so much, dim as it was, and he had a feeling that he was going to need every bit of juice the battery had in it. He couldn't afford to waste the phone on a bit of light. The way this curse kept throwing him away from Sam, he needed a way to contact his brother more than a little bit of light.<p>

He had one hand on the wall, and was walking steadily in the direction he hoped Sam and their room was. He couldn't just sit still, waiting to be rescued. It was just too... damsel in distress-y for him. His footsteps clanged with a metal echo, bouncing off the walls of the tunnel. He used the screws to count off how far he had gone, guesstimating each to be fifty feet away from the next. After passing his third screw, he heard a soft scuffling noise in the dark, coming from behind him.

He turned around quickly, keeping one hand along the wall so he didn't lose where he was. The scuffling sound came again, this time closer to his position. Small scratching noises slowly approached. Dean grabbed the matchbook out of his pocket, pulling out one of his last matches. He continued to back away as he lit the match.

His breath hitched in his chest when the light brightened the tunnel for a few minutes. Only a few dozen feet away was a rat, black eyes glittering in the firelight and brown fur reflecting the light. It was one of the most horrifying things he'd seen, right up there with the spider from earlier. Its body was easily as tall as Dean, and it stretched out at least three times as long as him lengthwise. It was far larger than a horse. His heart dropped as it snuffled its nose in his direction. Even if he had his guns, he'd never be able to fight that thing.

He continued to move backward, keeping his footsteps as soft as possible to avoid alerting it to his presence. He needed to keep it from noticing him. It was a forlorn hope, but every bit of distance he could get between him and it before it went for him gave him a better chance of survival. Remembering how much trouble he'd had with the spider did nothing for his confidence. This thing was far larger and more dangerous than the spider ever had been, and his brother was nowhere around this time.

The rat took a few steps in Dean's direction, snuffling its nose in his direction just as the match started to burn his fingers. Cursing, he dropped the remains of the match and pulled out another one just as he heard the rat start to move again, in his direction. He managed to light the match, lighting up the rats eyes again. This time they were locked directly on him. Cursing, he tried to hold the match steady while twisting around to run. The light flickered briefly, showing him the rat moving rapidly in his direction. _So much for not being noticed,_ he thought ruefully.

Dean booked it away from the rodent. There was no way he could outrun it, but he had to try. And every moment he kept away from it was another moment he had the chance to think of something else, or for Sam to show up. Trying not to stumble, he pulled his small knife out of his boots. Better to be prepared for when it caught up, even though it was doubtful a tiny knife would do any good against a rat practically the size of an elephant.

His latest match went out quick in the wind while he was running. Left in the dark, he ran his hand against the wall of the vent, keeping himself pointed in the right direction. Last thing he needed on top of everything else was to get turned around in here. He could hear the rat approaching from behind, the noises slowly growing closer and closer. He was going to lose this race. He was just too small to be able to get any real distance.

They both ran on, seconds ticking away as the rat closed the distance. Dean stumbled for a moment over a screw sticking up from the floor, but was able to catch himself before he face planted. He managed to recover, picking up the speed as much as he could. He was starting to tire though, lungs burning for more air. He focused his mind away from the pain like he always did on a hunt, giving him strength to go on.

Right when he was losing hope, a light shone through a side vent near the end of the tunnel. A tiny sliver of hope blossomed in Dean's chest. "Sam?" He cried out, still running. There was no other reason for anyone to be in the vents at this time of night, and it wasn't a moment too soon. In the soft light, he could see the rat was less than twenty feet behind him and still closing. It either hadn't noticed the light, or it didn't care.

"Dean!" A voice boomed in reply. The light grew brighter and Dean saw his brothers' head and shoulders peek out from the side vent. His breath caught again. Sam took up the entire vent, and still had to scrunch down to fit. His shoulders were squished together, the vent giving him no clearance on either side. All the space Dean had to move around in here was just another reminder of how small he was now.

Sam's large hazel eyes fell on him, widening when he saw the rat. "Dean, hurry!" He shouted in surprise, practically blowing Dean's eardrums out. As fast as possible, Sam pulled himself the rest of the way in the vent, trying to reach Dean first. If it wasn't his brother there, Dean would have run the other direction. Seeing something that massive coming toward him wasn't for the faint of heart. But he knew Sam would never do anything to hurt him, and trusted Sam more than anyone else in the world. Right now Sam, as large and intimidating as he could be, was safety and security. Behind him in the dark was pain. Agony. Death.

Just when Dean thought he was home free, something tugged at his right leg, yanking him down to the ground. Sam was so close! Dean twisted in place, trying to pull his leg free. No such luck. "Sonovabitch," he hissed under his breath.

The rat had caught his leg in its teeth, and when he tried to wriggle free it only bit down harder, slicing through jeans and skin alike. Blood flowed, coating the rat's snout. He aimed a kick at the rat with his free leg, slamming his boot against the snout to get it to release him. The rat barely blinked when his boot connected. One of the teeth cut far enough to hit bone as it tightened its grip on him. Hissing in pain, Dean went for his knife.

Sam had almost caught up as well, pulling out his own knife and dropping the flashlight with a CLANG! that shook Dean and the rat. He was just out of Sam's reach when the rat started to yank Dean in the other direction, dragging him away from his brother and safety, and back to the dark corners of the motel. Dean cast a look over his shoulder in Sam's direction to see where he was. "Sam!" He cried out as Sam tried to reach for him. Unfortunately for them both, his brother was still too far away to save him. The huge fingers fell short less than inches away, hitting against the metal with a hollow, groundshaking thud. The rat let a squeak out around Dean's leg, digging its teeth in deeper. Dean cried out in pain, trying to stretch his arm as far as it would go, wishing he was just a few inches closer to Sam...

"DEAN!" Sam cried, still trying to move quicker in the limited space. This time the rat was faster though, putting more distance between them with every passing second. It didn't have the problem of being cramped in too tight a space to move, and so could move far faster.

As the rat ran from Sam, every bump sent more pain shooting down Dean's injured leg. And his only hope for salvation was falling farther and farther behind him. Realizing he had to save himself _now_ or he was rat chow, Dean readied himself to strike. Managing to twist himself around so he was facing the rat, Dean sliced with his tiny knife against the snout. He managed to score a direct cut on the nose, causing the rat to release him. Dean's body thudded harshly against the floor the moment the jaws opened. He groaned from the force he hit the ground with.

The rat hissed angrily in Sam's direction, backing away from Dean. Blood oozed from the small cut on its nose. It finally decided this meal was too much risk, and turned from the brothers. The sound of its feet scratching against the metal faded into the background quickly as it ran from Sam.

Letting out a heartfelt sigh, Dean pulled himself back to his feet, stumbling towards his towering brother, who had caught up at last. His right leg was on fire, each of the bite marks screaming in pain. After only a few steps in Sam's direction, he felt his legs buckling. Before he hit the ground, Sam's huge palm was there, cushioning his fall and scooping him gently up into the air. All the adrenaline from the last half hour poured out of Dean in an instant as soon as he was safe. He collapsed weakly against Sam's thick fingers, breathing heavily. He didn't even care how pathetic he must look, leaning against fingers longer than his entire body.

Sam lifted him up close to his face. "Dean, are you OK?" Worried hazel eyes scrutinized every inch of Dean's body, stopping on his legs. "Shit, you're losing a lot of blood." A huge finger gently straightened the injured leg. Dean hissed in pain, drawing back. For the most part, the bottom of the jeans were blood soaked.

For once he didn't even complain about how close Sam was hovering over him. Pulling himself up with effort to a sitting position in the massive palm, Dean drew up the pant leg to reveal four gashes on both sides of the leg, where the teeth had clamped down hard enough to slice into his skin. He winced when the pant leg brushed over one of the gashes, sending pain up his leg. "I'm starting to feel like a chew toy these days," he managed to gasp out.

Sam gave him a small, strained smile. Putting his knife back in its hiding place in his jacket, he ripped off a tiny piece of cloth from his t-shirt. The hand he was holding Dean in shook with his movements. "Here, use this to stop the bleeding. We've gotta get you back to the room and get that taken care of before anything else. Make sure it doesn't get infected."

Tugging the towel sized grey cloth from the massive fingers, Dean wrapped it around his leg. He put as much pressure as he could manage on the bite marks, slowing the bleeding. He glanced up toward Sam, who was still hovering over him, worry painted on his face. "Dude, enough with the mother hen action. Get us out of here. I'll be fine." He waved Sam off.

With a relieved laugh, Sam slowly backed up in the vent. His body was still too squished to be able to maneuver or move quick. He held the hand Dean was collapsed in as steady as he could manage, cupped against his chest while he crawled backward.

Dean's line of sight was cut down to just the hand he was resting in and the huge shirt above him, some of the light from the flashlight Sam was holding leaking in through the gaps in the fingers. He relaxed slowly, slumping into his brothers surprisingly steady grip. It was like riding in a car where you couldn't see out the window. For the first time since he'd shrunk, he actually felt safe, held like that.

Sam finally got back to the side tunnel he'd come down, heading toward the motel room with his brother safely in hand.

* * *

><p>Twenty minutes later they were back in the motel room. Dean was sitting on one of the library books, only slightly lower down than a regular chair would be, with his injured leg propped up on another book. Still holding the cloth firmly against the injury, he watched Sam get some gauze and some whiskey from their stuff. He picked up the bottle cap of beer his brother had given him when they got back to the room and took a long drink while he waited. He appreciated the gesture. He certainly needed the drink after his misadventures that night.<p>

Sam came back over to the table, sitting so he was leaning over Dean. "How's the bleeding?" He asked, reaching his hand toward the leg. Dean couldn't help leaning away a little, still feeling residual intimidation from earlier that day. It was so hard to keep cool when facing down a skyscraper sized giant, even when that giant was your brother. And it didn't help that Sam's hand alone was at least the size of a truck. A helpful truck that could pick you up without any warning and was too fast to dodge, as he knew well from experience.

Recovering smoothly, Dean set the beer cap aside. He didn't want Sam to know he was still a little intimidated after everything Sam had done for him. Was doing for him. Carefully lifting up the cloth, he peeked at his leg. "It stopped." He pulled the fabric off completely, revealing the bite marks.

Carefully, Sam slid his finger up under the leg, straightening it fully. He avoided touching any of the gashes with his finger. Gently, he wiped the blood off with a clean, wet rag, careful to not put any pressure on the tiny leg. He winced at how deep some of the bitemarks went, even from his point of view.

All Dean could do while Sam was cleaning out the wound was stare at his leg, shocked at how small it was between his brothers fingers. His leg, as muscular as it was, almost seemed - delicate, fragile held that way. The fingers were easily more than twice as thick as his legs and far stronger. He wondered if that was how Sam saw him all the time now. Small. Fragile. Helpless. He held as still as he could, realizing at this size Sam could accidentally snap the leg without even trying. He glanced up at his brothers looming form, feeling a wave of self-loathing overcome him at his helplessness. "Sam, I'm sorry."

Sam's eyes flicked up from the leg to Dean's face. "Sorry? Sorry for what?" He asked, confused. He paused from cleaning the wound, lowering the blood-stained rag away from Dean.

"For this." Dean gestured around at his surroundings. "For being such a burden. You have to watch out for me every second, and I just get to sit here, being completely useless. Can't help out, can't get anything right these days. Hell, I can't even get myself a drink these days without your help." His tiny shoulders slumped down, dejected.

"Dean," Sam said. Dean refused to look up at him. Sam leaned down, trying to catch his brothers gaze. He knew this was what had been eating at Dean recently, all the silences and surreptitious looks Dean gave him when he thought Sam wasn't paying attention. "Dean, you are NOT useless." Dean scoffed at that, crossing his arms grumpily. Determined, Sam held his gaze like that until Dean begrudgingly raised his head to meet Sam's eyes. "You're not useless, Dean, you're just... really, really small," he said softly. At this, they both looked down at Dean's leg. It was fully stretched out, and still didn't reach the second joint on Sam's finger.

"Awesome." Dean muttered, feeling smaller than ever. Sam's pep talk was doing nothing for his mood. What a surprise.

"Hey, if it wasn't for you, we wouldn't have ever found Katies phone, or knew how she died. And without you we'd still have no idea about the ring at all. So stop saying you're useless." Sam gently gave Dean a reassuring pat on the back with a finger from his free hand. He was careful to not hit hard enough to knock his tiny brother from his book perch. Considering how the finger was bigger than Dean now, it would be far too easy to do.

Dean glanced over his shoulder, eyeing up the massive fingertip resting lightly against him. He appreciated his brothers support, but it wasn't helping the whole 'feeling small' problem.

Sam continued on. "You've still managed to do things any normal person would run screaming from. Hell, you fought off a spider almost as big as you! How many people can say that? You know what useless feels like? Being stuck, unable to help your brother fight off a spider because you might hurt him if you try. Useless is not being able to save your brother from a rat because you're too damn slow. You did that all yourself. Just because you're small doesn't mean you're not useful, Dean."

Dean snorted doubtfully at this. "Without you, that rat would have finished me off no matter what. My little knife wouldn't have done much if it was really set on taking me. It only left me alone because you were so close. And the spider..." Dean paused, still unable to articulate how freaked out he had been by Sam's boot crushing the spider so close to him. He could still feel the earth shake from the force if he thought too hard on it.

"Maybe. But if you hadn't been able to break free, I wouldn't have been able to get to you. Either time." Sam resumed wiping the blood off the tiny leg and continued, "We're going to break this curse and have you back on world saving duty in no time." He tried to give Dean his best puppy dog look, but Dean didn't react at all to the gesture or the words this time.

Letting out a sigh that ruffled Dean's hair at the lack of reaction he got, Sam turned his full attention to fixing Dean's leg. "Here, this might sting a bit." He poured a tiny bit of whiskey on the leg, sterilizing the wounds from any infection that might have set in. Considering it was caused by a wild animal, they couldn't afford to take any chances. Clenching his fists tightly to his side, all that escaped Dean was a soft hiss, so quiet Sam couldn't even hear it.

Once the wound was clean, Sam used a Q-tip to put a tiny bit of antibiotics on the wound. He then tore the gauze into thinner strips, small enough to wrap around Dean's leg. Carefully, he wrapped them around the injury, covering it against any infection. Since he was a teenager, Sam had been binding up wounds and stitching his brother and father back together, so he was well suited to helping Dean out now, even with the size difference. Although Sam might not be able to put stitches in while Dean was so small, his hands were as steady as a surgeons, expertly binding the leg.

Once finished, Dean pulled his pant leg down and stood up from the book, testing the leg. Sam sat back a bit to give him space. He took a few careful strides in front of Sam's casually crossed arms, knowing Sam would be able to catch him if he fell. Each step was painful, but at least he was still able to walk on his own. The last thing he needed was to be even more helpless than he already was.

Tilting his head back, he had to look almost straight up just to be able to meet Sam's eyes. Another blow against his pride. "Thanks," he said quietly, his face serious. He hobbled back over to his book, sitting down out of the way. Sam sent him a hesitant smile before standing back up to put everything away. Dean downed the rest of his beer, watching Sam move about the room and trying to drown out everything that had happened that day.

Once he was finished, Sam came back over to the table. He refilled Dean's beer, handing it back to him carefully. When he was sure Dean was settled he pulled out the book on curses again. He read through it while Dean stayed sitting on his book nearby, keeping his injured leg propped up out of Sam's way. He didn't want to go too far away from Sam, but at the same time the last thing he wanted to do while he was so small and vulnerable was get in his giant brothers' way. Especially since now he couldn't move out of the way quick. As careful as Sam was all the time, it only took one mistake, and at this size Dean couldn't afford one mistake.

They sat like this well into the night, Dean trying to drown out his world with beer, Sam reading everything he could find on curses. Once Sam started to nod off at the table again, he decided it was time to actually go to bed.

"Dean?" He said softly.

There was no response. Sam gave a half smile when he saw Dean had fallen asleep yet again. It had been so long since Dean had been this peaceful around him. _He definitely sleeps better at this size... Wonder if he's just bored having nothing to do all night or being small actually affects the body's circadian rhythm..._ he mused to himself. But that was a question to answer another time. For now, this was the most sleep he'd seen his big brother get in months. Since he got back from Hell, actually. He wasn't about to wake Dean up if he could avoid it. Especially since Dean could use all the rest he could get after everything he'd been through the last few days.

He gently nudged Dean's form onto his hand again, careful not to bump against the injured leg. It was still amazing to him how small Dean was now, fully stretched out in his palm alone, and weighing almost nothing. He lifted Dean up to his eyes, double checking his brothers injuries. He sighed unhappily when he thought about how easy it was for Dean to get hurt. Briefly he found himself wishing his brother could have been spared this new hell after everything else he'd been through recently.

Once he had Dean safely in hand, he took his brother over to the nightstand, putting him softly back on the black t-shirt for the night. Sam smiled when Dean snuggled happily right into the cloth, still asleep. Leaving the light on in case anything else was to happen that night, Sam settled into his own bed, letting sleep claim him at last.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**

Part 5 and part 6 are, I think, my favorite parts, to write and to read... just so much fun. I do feel bad for what Dean's going through though... he's having a rough time. Good thing he's got good backup.

A little from the other side of the story too... the witch is determined

Almost caught up completely, there'll be two more parts up this week, then it's back to one post a week! All reviews _very _welcome. Would love to hear what everyone thinks!


	7. Watching him Fade Away

Sam woke early on in the morning. Checking the nightstand, he saw Dean was still passed out, arms crossed tight across his tiny chest, managing to look disgruntled even in sleep. Grabbing his jacket, Sam went for an early morning coffee run, jogging down to the nearby convenience store. The 7-11 was brightly lit up in the morning sun. He pushed the door open, bells twinkling over his head.

He browsed around for something good for them to eat for breakfast, settling on a breakfast sandwich for Dean and some fruit for himself, making sure to grab some granola bars for later on as well. He headed out after making himself the perfect cup of joe, planning on sharing it with Dean. Its not like Dean could make a dent in the drink, even if he managed to drink his weight in coffee.

He took the walk back to the room at a slower pace, more relaxed now with their door in sight. He couldn't help worrying about Dean whenever he was out. After the last days events, he couldn't help but feel that anytime Dean was out of sight, something bad was going to happen. And now Dean wouldn't be able to run away, with his leg injured like that.

Luckily, the bones hadn't snapped when the rat had dragged Dean down the air vent. If they had, Sam didn't even want to think about how much worse off they'd be. He'd barely managed to pop a dislocated shoulder back in, straightening a broken limb would be far harder, especially considering how fragile Dean was now. More delicate than a baby bird, and Sam had never trained for veterinary work. Any wrong move on Sam's part at any moment could maim or even kill his brother. They needed to get Dean back to normal as soon as possible.

Arriving at the door, Sam unlocked it and slipped inside as noiselessly as possible. Dean was still out cold on the end table, in the same position. Sam felt his shoulders relax once he saw Dean was still there, still ok. His reading the night before on the curse had given him a little more insight on how the curse worked, so he wasn't worried about that hitting again just yet, but considering how their luck was running, he knew anything else could happen.

Putting the coffee and food on the table, he grabbed a bottlecap he'd saved that should be a little easier for Dean to drink from than the beer cap he'd been using yesterday. As carefully as he could manage, he poured some of the coffee into the cap. He set it down on the nightstand next to the shirt Dean was sleeping in as quietly as possible, trying not to wake the sleeping hunter.

Going back to the table, he pulled the library book back over and started reading again, snacking on his banana. There was only a few chapters in the book that he hadn't hit on yet. He was still filling in a few of the blanks about how the curse worked. What he hadn't found yet was a way to break it.

He was starting to consider giving Bobby a call. Dean probably wouldn't appreciate anyone else knowing about his little problem... but if it fixed him, he most likely wouldn't complain. Much. He decided to bring the idea up once Dean was awake.

And speak of the devil... he spotted movement over on the nightstand. Hiding a smile, he buried himself back in the book, giving Dean his space for the moment. It couldn't be easy, being so small and having a giant hovering over you all the time. Even though it was for his own good, Sam knew Dean liked his space, something he wasn't getting this week in any way, shape or form. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dean glancing around the room, slumping down when he saw he was still small.

Sam turned his attention fully on the book, determined to find a way to help Dean.

* * *

><p>A familiar smell slowly pushed Dean away from unconsciousness. He let out a small groan, rolling over in his sleep. An insistent pain from his leg pulled him the rest of the way awake. Sitting up, he held his head for a moment, letting the world come into focus.<p>

The first thing he did was check his leg. Seeing the gauze on it, he recalled the events from the night before. _That's right... I was almost a late night snack for a rat... awesome. Just fucking fantastic._ He made sure the leg was still bound tight. The rest of the world came into view as the sleep left his eyes. He was sleeping next to the alarm clock again, back on his black shirt. _I don't remember getting over here... did I fall asleep again?_ The last thing he could remember from the night before was sitting on a book, finishing off the rest of his beer.

_Sam must have moved me after I fell asleep..._ The thought of his brother being able to move him completely without him waking disturbed him. It didn't seem like it should be possible that someone the size of a building could be able to move him around without him waking up.

After a few more moments spent regaining his equilibrium, Dean realized what the smell that had woke him up was. A bottlecap of coffee was sitting on the nightstand next to the shirt he was sleeping in. He couldn't stop a smile from crossing his face. _Sam must have gone out for breakfast already._

Glancing around the room, he spotted Sam sitting at the table, hunched over a book again. Sam hadn't stopped researching yet. Dean hoped he'd found some clue to how to fix this curse. This whole three inch business was getting old. Not even being able to get around the motel room without help was getting to him. He detested having to ask for help.

Standing up, he stumbled for a moment, having briefly forgotten how much his leg hurt. He caught himself right before he tumbled to the ground. Putting weight onto it carefully, he found himself able to walk so long as he took it slow. _Great, now I'm even more useless than before,_ he grumbled inwardly. He made his way over to the coffee, sitting on the table next to it. The new bottlecap was bigger than the last, giving him the feeling he was drinking out of a pot. It was easier to use than the beer cap though, all the edges on that had made it hard not to spill when he took a sip.

He drank the coffee eagerly. He hadn't had a good caffeine fix since this whole shrinking business started. It was almost as good as pie. Almost. An energy he hadn't realized he'd been missing flowed into him, giving him the energy to face the day with.

He glanced over in Sam's direction once he'd got his fix. Calling out, he said, "So what's the chances there's some breakfast to go with the coffee?"

Sam raised his eyes from the book he was leaning over. "Heh, I'd say pretty good. Good morning, by the way. You wanna come hang out over here with me while I'm reading?"

"Yeah, if you don't mind. It's kinda... boring over here." Dean found himself holding his breath while his brother stood up, tall as a skyscraper. He just wasn't going to get used to this. Sam knelt by the nightstand, stretching out his hand out next to his much smaller brother. Dean stepped onto the massive palm, more off balance than normal because of his gimp leg. Grabbing onto the thumb, he waved Sam off, who was still staring down at him with concern in his eyes. "I'm fine, stop staring!" He snapped.

Sam snorted at that. "Gee, you're _bossy_ today, shorty." With his other hand, he mussed up Dean's short hair with a careful finger, making Dean stumble away in an attempt to save his hair.

"What's the big idea?" Dean groused, attempting to comb through the short locks with his fingers.

Sam snorted with laughter at the offended hunter on his palm. Once he was sure Dean had recovered, he reached out with his other hand, picking up the bottlecap of coffee. He stood slowly, keeping the hand Dean was on steady while he walked. Arriving at the table, he put his hand as flat as he could manage for Dean to step off.

Once his brother was standing on the table, Sam grabbed the white paper bag that was sitting next to the library book, pulling out a wrapped sandwich. Taking off the foil, he pinched off part of the sandwich and handed it down to Dean, who had settled down on a napkin nearby with his coffee. His leg was carefully stretched out in front. "Hope you don't mind sausage, egg and cheese. They didn't have any bacon when I went."

"This is great, Sam. Thanks." Taking the sandwich from the massive fingers, Dean found himself far less bothered today that the food was as big as his torso. At least he wouldn't run out anytime soon. He dug into the sandwich happily. Aside from still being Polly Pocket sized, this was turning out to be a good morning. "So, did you have any luck with the books?"

"Uh, yeah, actually. One of these books had a _ton_ on curses. I think I at least know what we're dealing with now."

"Yeah? And what's that?"

Sam opened the book while Dean ate, flipping to the middle. "Some curses, it seems, actually need to be controlled in order to work. Others, like the rabbits foot Dad had locked up, will work all on their own. So, touch the rabbits foot, curse gives you the luck of the devil until you lose it. With the ring, all it can do on its own is shrink you."

Dean glanced up from his sandwich at this. "That's all?"

"Yeah, that's why you haven't grown back yet. Until the ring is destroyed, you stay small. No ifs, ands or buts about it. If we can remove the ring and destroy it, you should go back to normal. The rest of the curse is being caused by the witch's spirit. Seems she has to control it in order for anything to happen to you." Sam rested his hand on the table, next to the napkin Dean was sitting on. Continuing on, "And that's why it's only happened twice so far."

"What do you mean? If I was her, I'd be whipping my ass all over the place. If she wants me dead, why is she doing such small time tricks?"

"That's just it, Dean. She can't. Remember what Dad told us about ghosts, when you hit them with rock salt? Why some come back fast and some take a long time to recover, or even never show up again?"

Crossing his arms, Dean furrowed his eyebrows. "He said it depends on how much energy they've managed to build up. Some ghosts just don't have as much anger or emotion in them, so the salt can actually disperse them permanently."

Sam picked up where he left off. "Or, if they're strong enough, they can interact with us like they're still living. Like Farmer Roadkill and Molly on that highway. They had a year of psychic energy saved up so they were able to interact more than most spirits. That's why a lot of ghosts pop up in certain cycles, or seasons. 37 years for that dead sailor, 4 years for the Morton House. They save up all that energy and can cause a lot of damage before they go back to 'sleep' for another cycle."

"So, you're saying she doesn't have the juice?"

"Yeah, exactly. So here's little old Belinda. She wakes up, sees her precious tree in danger. She lashes out at the threat in front of her. From what I can tell, she used up most of her energy on the girl. Everything happened at once. Girl was shrank, teleported away and the cat went after her. Oh - and that cat, I found out is Belinda's old familiar. It died at the same time she and her husband were torched. So she also had to use up her energy bringing the cat's spirit there to do her dirty work. Seems that she actually managed to enslave the familiar, which is unheard of. Usually a witches familiar follows the witch willingly. But she forced it and bound it to her, which is why it is so angry for a cat. I'd hate everyone too, if I was forced from the afterlife like that to do some witches dirty work."

Dean picked up his coffee, sipping from the huge bottlecap. "So with all this going on, she tapped herself out on the girl?"

"From what I can tell, yeah. She must have barely had the energy left to put that ring in front of you. It's no small matter, teleporting someone away. Especially when you're a ghost. That's one reason the ring shrinks you. No ghost has the energy to teleport a full sized person. Plus, it's a lot easier to kill you like this."

Finished with his coffee and sandwich, Dean stood up, stretching out. His shoulder wasn't in any pain anymore, but his leg ached at even the smallest movement. He walked closer to Sam. "So she's building up strength and teleporting me when she can?"

"Look's like. It seems to take about a day for her to build up enough to be able to send you anywhere, so we've got a bit of time 'till we have to worry again. I've been digging through this book searching for a way to break the curse, but no luck yet." Sam combed his hand through his hair, pulling it away from his face. "I think she's been hoping you'd die with these little teleports of hers."

"Wonder what she has in store for me next." Dean crossed his arms, pacing uneasily in front of his huge brother. "Seems like she steps up her game every time I get zapped."

"Yeah." Sam tapped his fingers on the table near Dean thoughtfully. "Hey, I was thinking about putting a call out to Bobby. He might be able to find a way to break the curse."

Dean couldn't stop a disgruntled look from passing over his face. The last thing he wanted was anyone else knowing about his 'problem.' It was hard enough dealing with his own brother towering over him, he didn't want to add any other people to the mix.

Sam seemed to read his thoughts. "I know you don't want to, but if he can find a way to fix it..."

"Yeah, I get it." He sat back down on one of the books scattered around the table and stared down at his feet. "I just hate how this whole situation is making me feel."

"I know," Sam said softly. Reading over slowly, he rubbed his knuckles along Dean's back supportively, wishing he could do more to help. Dean's tiny shoulders stiffened under his touch for a moment before slumping down against the fingers. "Alright then." Sam dug out his phone, keeping his other hand lightly against Dean for moral support. "I'll put him on speaker so you can listen in." He pulled up Bobby's number, dialing quickly. Once the ringing started on the other end he set the phone on the table near Dean, hitting the speaker.

_Ring._

They heard a click come over the line. _"Yeah?"_

"Hey Bobby, it's Sam."

_"How you boys doin'?"_

"Actually that's kinda why we're calling. We're on a case in Indiana, and we've run into a bit of trouble. This is a new one for us. Got this weird curse that somehow shinks people."

_"Shrinks people? Like Honey I Shrunk the Kids shrinking or 'I need my head examined,' shrink?"_

"It's the 'I'm suddenly small enough to swim in a beer bottle' shrinking. The vics end up about three inches tall when they get hit." Sam raised his eyes to Dean. "We were hoping you might know how to break the curse."

_"You've found the shrunken victims? How many have been affected?"_

"Ahh, we haven't exactly found any other victims yet. Left alive, at least."

There was a pregnant pause over the phone. _"Dammitall Sam, you're talking about you or Dean, aren't you?"_

Sam was subjected to a miniature death glare from Dean at this. Sam knew Dean was hoping to leave out the part where he was the one cursed. Meeting Dean's eyes, he hesitated briefly before confirming Bobby's suspicions. "Yeah, Dean got hit by it."

_"And he's seriously three inches tall?"_

"Yep."

_"I don't know any other hunters that get in as much trouble as the two of you do together. It's like you both have a sign tattooed on your ass that says 'Here we are! Come curse us!' Tell me everything."_

Over the next few minutes, Sam detailed everything that had happened over the last few days, from finding his brother collapsed on a washcloth, to Dean appearing in a beer bottle, to Dean finding the remains of the girl shredded and the rat that almost killed him the night before. Listening to all this, Dean felt the same uselessness he'd had the night before. Everything that had happened the last few days wouldn't have been a problem if he hadn't touched that damn ring. He glared at it, sitting on his hand so innocently for the moment.

Once Sam finished, a few long moments passed before Bobby responded again. _"How's Dean now?"_

"He's fine, he's sitting next to the phone, listening in."

Dean couldn't help himself from jumping in, "hey Bobby." He was starting to feel like a kid, listening to adults talk over his head about him doing something bad at school like he couldn't hear them.

_"How ya holdin' up?"_

"Oh, I'm awesome. It feels great, you know, having my ass on the line again." Dean rubbed his head, feeling frustrated.

_"So, it's this ring that's causing the shrinking?"_

"Yeah, from what I found on the curse." Sam picked up the phone briefly. "I'll send you a picture of the ring Dean took."

After a few moments, _"Got it,"_ came over the line. _"Mind sending me a picture of Dean?"_

Dean grumbled at that, the last thing he wanted was any reminders of this floating around in the future. "What do you need that for."

_"Comparison during my research, and I have to admit I'm curious. It's not everyday you get to see a three inch tall hunter."_

Smiling, Sam snapped the picture of the tiny, glowering Dean still leaning against his hand. "There, it's sent." Dean sat up, away from the hand, arms crossed, and directed his glare up at Sam.

Bobby must have received the picture from the grumblings that came over the line._"Dammit Dean, you need to be more careful. You couldn't win a fight with a cockroach now."_

"Thank you Bobby, for your everlasting support. I'll remember that." Dean snipped.

_"Hey, at least I'm not singing for the lollypop guild."_

Sam held the phone back down near Dean, hoping to keep the peace and get them back on track. "So, you think you can look into it for us?"

_"Yeah, I'll see what I can dig up. And, Sam? Look after your brother. Anything can happen to him like this. Even YOU can be dangerous to him now, Sam. Idjits." _A click signaled the phone disconnecting.

Sam felt his breath catch at the reminder from Bobby about how fragile Dean was. His mind briefly flashed through the last few days - finding Dean's tiny body collapsed on the cabinet, noticing for the first time how small Dean was compared to his fingers, seeing Dean crumpled next to his boot, knocked down by just the force from him stomping on the spider. Even just now, when he rubbed Dean's back with his knuckles he could feel the fragility of his brothers bones compared to him, the tiny ridges of his spine under the shirt. How easily they could be broken if he simply moved the wrong way. Silently he promised to himself that he _would_ fix Dean, one way or the other.

He turned his gaze back down to his tiny brother, still sitting grumpily next to his hand, blissfully unaware of the thoughts Sam had running through his head. Sam leaned back, tucking his phone back into his jacket. "Well, hopefully he can find something."

Dean sighed, staring down at the table under him, his injured leg twitching nervously. "Hopefully soon. I have a feeling the clocks ticking fast on this curse."

"We still have time before she should be able to zap you again." Sam reached his hands towards Dean. "Here, since we've got a bit of time on our hands, let me take a look at your leg. I should change the bandage and make sure there's no infection setting in."

Dean held himself still while his brothers massive hands surrounded him on all sides, carefully pulling the book he was sitting on toward where Sam was sitting. It was getting easier to not flinch away from Sam now, after spending a few days this small. It was still weird though, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop Sam if he ever needed to. He tugged his pants leg up again while Sam got out more gauze and supplies. Once Sam came back over, Dean unwrapped the leg with his brother watching from above.

Once the gauze was off, he checked over the leg. The gashes, while still deep, were showing signs of healing. No festering at all, which was a great sign since the injury was caused by animal bite. Infection would be a very bad thing to get while he was too small to take any antibiotics. Sam's finger came up beneath the leg again while he was still checking it over, dwarfing it while it was straightened out.

"Not bad," Sam murmured while he examined it as best he could. "Your leg should be healed in no time." He carefully wiped it down, putting a tiny bit more medication on before he wrapped it up in fresh gauze. Dean stood up once his brother was done, testing the leg again.

"It's getting a bit easier to walk on, at least." Dean said with a sigh of relief. He wandered back over to the books with a slight groan. "So, while we wait for Bobby... research?"

"Guess so," Sam said. He pulled his laptop out. "Now that I know more about the curse, maybe there's something online about it."

Dean climbed onto the book on curses Sam had read. "And I'll see if there's anything that you missed in here."

Sam snorted at that. "I doubt it."

"Wanna bet? Your big eyes probably missed something important somewhere, sasquatch. It's all in the details."

Sam laughed at that, gently shoving the book Dean was standing on away from him. Dean almost stumbled for a moment, then shot another glare up at his brother. Pretending not to notice, Sam turned his attention to the laptop, starting a search for ways to break curses.

* * *

><p>Hours later, Sam was no closer to finding an answer to Dean's problem. He'd been on all kinds of different websites, trying to find real hoodoo. The problem with the internet searches, versus the books they usually relied on was everybody and anybody could post about anything. He had to sift through tons of dross to find the real deal. Dean was now on the bed, still reading through the book on curses. He hadn't had any more luck than Sam so far.<p>

Pushing the pizza box they'd ordered for lunch out of his way, Sam closed his laptop. Maybe he'd hit the books again. At least they tended to be more reliable when he found answers. As fantastic as the internet was for finding information quickly, it took time to find real answers. Time was one thing they were running out of.

Sam glanced at his phone again, willing Bobby to call them with an answer. The time was running down on the curse. By nightfall, the curse could activate at any time, based on what they'd seen so far from the witch. They still didn't know how fast she could recharge, she'd hit Dean at two different times so far.

Going over to the window, Sam checked outside. Stormclouds were rolling in, blocking out the last light of the day. Thunder rumbled in the distance. _Fantastic._ He let the blinds fall back down, darkening the room again. Sam wandered over to the bed Dean was still sitting on, flipping through the book.

He bounced onto the bed without warning, sending Dean flying up in the air from the force, and easily caught the tiny hunter on his way down before he crashed. The thick skin on Sam's palm cushioned Dean's fall so he wasn't hurt. He smirked at the offended look on Dean's face once he realized what happened. Sam tilted his hand back onto the bed, sliding Dean safely off next to the book.

"Hey, what's the big idea, gigantor?" Dean demanded grumpily, picking himself back up once he recovered. He scowled up at Sam.

Sam hid a snigger. "Sorry, couldn't resist." He leaned over the book and his disgruntled brother, checking what Dean had been reading over before being interrupted. "Any luck?"

"Nothin.' A fat lot of nothin.'" Dean brushed himself off testily, stalking out from under the shadow of Sam's chin. "It's not like my luck is gonna start _now_."

Sam sighed sadly, wishing he had better news for Dean. He watched his tiny brother scale the pillow next to him like it was the side of a fluffy white mountain. Grabbing the book, Sam sat back next to Dean. Unfortunately he forgot how easy it was to knock Dean over now, and the force of him sitting back caused Dean to fall on his ass, offset by the plushy ground. Sam pretended not to notice, knowing how this whole situation was already making Dean feel helpless. No need to call attention to it, even if all he wanted to do was lend a helping hand.

He flipped through the book, hoping to find something they'd missed. Scanning quickly through the pages, any hope he had slowly faded. They'd gone over this information a hundred times between the two of them during the day. Nothing had changed since the last time he'd looked.

After a few moments of silence, he heard a small groan from next to him. He glanced down at the pillow, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. "Dean?"

Dean was standing on the pillow now, one hand held out for balance, and his other arm wrapped around his stomach. He wavered in place, face going pale. Stumbling toward Sam, Dean lost his footing, tumbling down the pillow. He rolled to a stop at the bottom. "Sammy," he managed to get out before he fell to his knees, both arms wrapped around his stomach now. He grimaced in pain, doubling over. Desperately, he reached his hand toward Sam, unable to make any other movements.

"Dean!" Sam cried, reaching for him. Before he could pick up his brother, Dean's body started to fade before his eyes. Crumpled in place, Dean turned his eyes up toward Sam, eyes silently pleading for help. But Sam was too late. By the time his hand reached the blanket, his brother was gone. Again.

_"DEAN!"_

* * *

><p><em>Belinda stands at the foot of the bed. Her strength has returned to her at last. Now, she can truly make the hunter suffer for coming to her house, invading her home. All she needs to do is send him back there one last time. This time, he will die.<em>

_She reaches out to him, stroking her ring. It brightens at her touch, recognizing its creator. Responding to her wishes, it begins to burn. He reacts, stumbling off the pillow he sits on, clutching his stomach. His brother reaches for him, but he is too late to stop her curse from working. He will always be too late. This she will make sure of._

_She adds in one last detail this time. She knows the tall hunter will save his brother if he knows where to find him, so she reaches out again. This time she is far more precise, using a delicacy she has not displayed before. She removes the tiny box from his jacket that he uses to talk with the tall hunter and tosses it on the bed away from him. Without that, he will be hers and hers alone. She sends him far away this time, teleported all the way back to her home. There, she will prepare a surprise for him._

_With a predatory smile, she vanishes, following the hunter home._

* * *

><p><strong>AN**

Here, we get a little background on curses (as interpreted by me) and the boys get their go-to guy involved, Bobby Singer!

Next part goes up Saturday, then it'll be once a week, on Saturdays


	8. A Dark and Stormy Night

Sam scrambled to his knees on the bed. "No, no, no..." he muttered, desperately lifting up the covers on the bed. He was hoping he'd been seeing things and Dean would be there, fine and laughing at him for falling for the joke. Naturally, Dean was not hiding under the covers. In an instant, Sam was on his hands and knees, crawling around the room, checking under all the furniture, the beds, calling out for Dean. He even opened up all the drawers around the room, checking behind the Bible, looking in the closet. Nothing. No Dean anywhere.

After a few minutes of fruitless searching, it occurred to him that he could just _call_ Dean and ask him where he was. Feeling slightly abashed, he pulled out his phone. Dean's number was up on the screen in record time. He hit the call button. "C'mon..." he said, half begging and half praying for Dean to answer. Ringing started on the other end. Sam felt his spirits rise...

...Then crash back down when a tiny guitar riff cut through the silence in the room. Disbelieving, he glanced over at the bed, where the sound was coming from. A forlorn "no..." escaped his lips. He went over to the bed, brushing his hand over where Dean had collapsed before he disappeared. A practically microscopic phone tumbled into his palm, still ringing. It was so small it almost got lost in his hand. He lifted it up as close to his eyes as he could, shocked. Dean would _never_ have put it down after the events over the last few days. Never. Sam had never known Dean to make such an amature and costly mistake.

With the miniscule phone still cupped on his palm, Sam collapsed backward onto the bed. Dean was in danger, somewhere out there. And here Sam was. Useless. He curled up with his knees against his chest, head buried in his arms. All he had to show was a lifetime of letting Dean down. Couldn't stop him from going to Hell, couldn't save him once he was there. And now he couldn't break Dean's curse, couldn't even be there for him when he was in danger. A lifetime of failure. A lifetime of always letting Dean down.

* * *

><p>The world twisted around Dean, spinning fast. He remembered getting vertigo from his trip to the beer bottle, but this time it was like the world was suddenly standing on its head. Dean tried to pull himself back to his feet as everything started to return to normal, but didn't get any farther than his knees. The vertigo was quickly replaced with a sudden sense of nausea, giving him only a seconds warning before he was hunched over, losing what must have been every meal he'd eaten since being shrank.<p>

After an endless amount of time had passed, Dean was finally able to sit back up. He coughed a few more times, wishing he had a bottle of water while he scanned his surroundings, trying to place where he'd been teleported to by the ring. _Damn that ring._ On all sides, his view was blocked by tall, green stalks. Tiny rocks surrounded him on the ground, hand sized ants marching past his... mess... on one side. For now, they paid him no mind.

He was standing in the grass somewhere. Tall grass that hadn't been mowed in a few days. He was too small to see over the tall stalks to get an idea of where he was. _I'll need a better idea of where I am if I want Sam to find me..._ he mused to himself. Otherwise he'd be calling his brother and saying "Hey, I'm stuck in the grass somewhere! Not sure where, but can you come find me?" It'd be like when he was searching for Sam the time the yellow-eyed demon kidnapped him and the other special children and Dean had no leads anywhere in America.

Picking a direction at random, he started to walk in the fading sunlight. He carefully pushed through the green stalks stretching over his head. At places, they grew too thick for him to push through. He avoided passing too close to any bugs that he could see. There was no telling which ones would try to take a bite out of him and which ones would ignore him. It slowly grew harder to see where he was going in the grass. The shadows around him were lengthening, so nightfall would come soon.

On his way, he dug in his pockets to where he'd put his phone last. Finding nothing, he started to dig through the rest of his jeans. He'd specifically put the phone in his jeans, he remembered that clearly. After he'd been caught without his jacket, he hadn't wanted to take any other chances. Still coming up short, Dean froze. He had no phone. No way of calling Sam. And here he was, stuck outside, in grass taller than him, surrounded by hundreds of bugs, all at the same scale. A small bit of panic started to worm its way into his chest. Nothing he'd ever been through had prepared him for this.

Patting himself down, he calmed down a little when he realized that it was only his phone that had gone missing. He still had everything else, including his trusty shotgun and handgun. And a flashlight, which he was going to need if he didn't get somewhere safe, fast. A deep, powerful sound of thunder rumbled overhead. Dean flinched, casting his eyes up at the sky. The storm that had been hovering around the area throughout the afternoon was finally rolling in. Just his luck.

He trekked on, speeding up to get out of the thick grass so he could get a good look at the area. His leg throbbed in pain, but it was manageable. Darkness started to close in as the clouds overhead blocked out the evenings last sunlight. A strong wind blew, trying its damnedest to knock Dean down onto the ground. Finally reaching an area where the grass wasn't so high around him, Dean was at last able to scan the horizon.

Behind him, he could see trees - real trees, standing hundreds of feet high from his perspective, towering over the landscape. A few small finches were sitting on one of the low hanging branches, chittering angrily at the stormclouds while they huddled together for safety. The shadows under the trees had deepened to almost the darkness of night. Ahead of him, he recognized the large house he and Sam had been at a few times over the last few days. He wasn't too far away from it now. Suddenly it all clicked together. The witch had simply been biding her time with the other tricks, waiting for her strength to build until she could send him here. And if he was here, then...

A surge of adrenaline hit him when he spotted it. The black cat. Or, what he knew now as the witches former familiar, bound to her in life. It seemed this witch had found a way to keep the bond into the afterlife, which he hadn't thought was possible. It sat by the bushes where the girl had died, tail slowly flicking from side to side as it eyed him up. His insides froze as that two toned glare of hatred hit him again.

The cat slowly drew its lips back, baring teeth that were as long as, or longer than Dean's arms. He started to back away, trying to not put too much weight on his injured leg. Continuing to face the cat while he backed away, he pulled out his sawed-off, preparing himself. If he and Sam were right, this cat was no longer among the living, which hopefully meant it shared the same weaknesses as any spirit, though this was his first encounter with an animal spirit. He loaded in two salt shells while the cat continued to stare him down.

He glanced behind him quickly, taking in the distance to the house. It appeared to be less than a quarter mile away... which didn't do him much good, since the cat could clear that distance within moments or seconds. He whipped his head back when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. The cat slowly stood up, stretching out and displaying each of its claws with exquisite precision. _It's toying with me..._ he thought. _It knows I can't run fast enough to escape it._ Despair gripped him for a brief moment before he pushed it stubbornly away. The cat didn't know that he had a hidden ace up his sleeve.

The cat slowly began to stalk toward him when raindrops started to fall from the sky, the stormclouds overhead opening at last. Dean jumped back when one hit the ground less than a foot from him, sending up an explosion of water and dirt. Water hit his leg, soaking through part of the bandage Sam had put on and sending a wave of pain up the leg when water seeped into the cuts. More drops started falling, occasionally hitting Dean with a glancing blow. He started to move faster toward the house. Avoiding the rain at this size was becoming more like avoiding hard-to-see grenades hitting the ground in a warzone.

The ground was fast becoming a mudslide, and if he didn't make any headway soon, he had a feeling he wouldn't be reaching the house at all. His boots sank in, almost getting sucked off his feet when he tried to pull up. He managed it with a harsh grunt, his injured leg almost completely soaked now and on fire from the constant pain.

Seeing Dean speed up, the cat took several bounding jumps. Gracefully, it landed in between him and the house, hissing and baring its fangs at him. It slashed out with a massive paw, larger than his chest with sharp, six-inch claws stretching out at him. Dean managed to dodge the blow at the last second, but he slipped and fell into the mud, landing harshly on his back. He pointed his shotgun right at the cats eyes, pulling the trigger. The spirit dissipated into mist, and then even that faded.

Dean loaded two more shells, and tucked the gun into his jacket. He wanted to keep it from getting too wet, knowing he was going to need it when the cat came back. And it would come back, that much he knew. So far, this witches curse had gone after him with a single minded intensity, and he doubted a little salt would stop it now. While he was putting the gun away, his hand chanced upon one of his inner pockets, feeling a familiar shape that he hadn't expected. Curiously he pulled it out, rejoicing inside when he saw it was the girls phone. Hope blossomed in his chest. He'd forgotten that he'd kept it in his jacket, along with her wallet, instead of handing them over to Sam with the clothes. Picking up his pace towards the looming house, he opened up the phone, pulling up the last call made to it.

_Sam._

* * *

><p>Ten minutes after watching Dean vanish, Sam was slowly checking anywhere that might be dangerous if you were three inches tall. After the last two times Dean had been hit by the curse, he'd come up with a theory. It seemed that the curse put you wherever you would be in the most danger at that time. A beer bottle that would either be drank from, or tossed out in the trash. An air vent that a rat had made a nest inside. This witch was searching for something to do her dirty work for her.<p>

So far, he'd looked through the motel room and the Impala, and now he was making a quick round through the parking lot. Anywhere on the pavement would be dangerous to Dean, with cars bigger than buildings driving around. No one was going to see, or stop for a person who only stood three inches tall. Hell, some people had trouble seeing _children_ when they were backing up. Sam just hoped he wouldn't be too late if Dean was out here.

He was aware of people peeking out of the blinds in their rooms, watching the 6'4 man running around the parking lot staring at the ground. He figured they either thought he was crazy or he'd lost something like a ring. It wasn't too far from the truth... He HAD lost a ring. His brother just happened to be wearing it at the moment.

Halfway through his methodical search, he heard his phone ring. He pulled it out, surprised when he didn't recognize the number on the other end. Slightly suspicious, he answered cautiously. "Hello?"

_"Sam! You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice!"_

"Dean?!" Sam said, unable to hide his shock at his brothers voice. "How... What are you... Where are... Your phone, I found it in the room!" Even now, the almost microscopic phone was sitting in his chest pocket, practically lost in the folds of fabric and balls of lint. He figured if he found his brother, Dean could get it out. Anywhere else Sam thought of putting it seemed too easy to lose the damn near invisible object.

_"Yeah, well it must be my lucky day, 'cause I found Katies phone in my pocket."_

Sam's eyes widened in realization. "So that's why I didn't recognize the number." He'd forgotten all about the girls phone after everything that had happened yesterday. Damn lucky Dean had found it though.

_"Must be. The witch must be back up to full power, Sam. I got transported all the way back to the house. I'm in the yard now, trying to get somewhere safe._ Over the speaker Sam heard something impact near Dean, followed by an angry, shouted _"Sonovabitch!"_

"Dean, what's going on?" Sam demanded as he ran to the Impala. He fumbled the keys, dropping them onto the ground trying to open the car one handed.

_"Sam, you need to get here as soon as possible, its th-" _The sound cut off on the phone. Sam stared down at his cell, mesmerized briefly by the words*****Call Disconnected***** scrolling across the screen. Desperate, he re-dialled the number. It went straight to the girls voicemail.

_Shit._

Grabbing the keys off the ground, he dove into the Impala in record time. Fumbling, he barely managed to turn on the car, his hands were shaking so badly. Turning it on at last, he gunned it onto the road, praying he'd be in time.

* * *

><p>"Fuck."<p>

Dean dug through the mud angrily, trying to find the girls damn phone. He'd been hit by another raindrop in the middle of talking to Sam, slamming against the hand holding the phone. When he lost his grip, it had tumbled into the thickening mud on the ground. He had never known how painful rain could be. Even the smallest drop was hitting him with the force of a hailstone. His fingers brushed against something metal for a moment before he lost it again in the muck. The rain was coming down harder than ever as he dug deeper into the sludgy ground. Lightning briefly lit up the sky, followed by a deafening thunderclap.

Finally he was able to wrap his fingers around the phone again. Yanking it out of the mud, he started hobbling toward the house again, favoring his injured leg. Finally out of the grass, he stumbled over a rock pathway, briefly free of the thickening mud. He was more than halfway there, closing in on the small flower garden that wrapped around the house. He brushed the mud off the phone, trying to get the screen clear. Once he could see the phone, he saw it was turned off. Holding down the power button, he tried to turn it back on. Nothing. _Son of a bitch, the mud or the rain must have damaged the insides._

He stuffed the now useless phone back into his jacket pocket and concentrated on getting to safety. The raindrops falling had increased enough that he was unable to dodge them at all, slamming into him repeatedly. His clothes were completely soaked through, and his leg burned everytime he tried to take a step. He finally made it past the massive walkway, jumping back into the small strip of grass that stood between him and the garden surrounding the house.

When he was almost there, the back of his neck tingled as though he was being watched. Holding his breath, he turned in place, quietly pulling his shotgun back out. The witches familiar was sitting near him again, eyeing him up like a bowl of caviar.

This time when it pounced, it let out a loud _YOWL,_ hissing at him as it slashed at him with its claws. They missed by less than an inch as Dean dove to the side again. He couldn't get his shotgun pointed at the cat, too busy dodging the swiping claws. For a moment, he thought he'd be able to twist around and pull off the shot, but the mud slipped under his boot, and he fell back into the sludge.

A massive paw slammed against him, knocking the air out of his lungs. It pushed him deeper into the mud, the vicious liquid seeping up around his limbs. He stared into the cats eyes, certain this moment would be his last. His brief stint back on good ole' earth would be over and he'd be back to doing time in Hell. Alistairs' smirking face floated before his eyes. He had seen enough of that bastard for one lifetime. For a lifetime of lifetimes. Dean struggled fruitlessly against the overpowering weight, _no, not again!_

Right when the cat was going to strike down with its other paw, a massive light turned on over their heads. The world lit up, illuminating the spirit and its prey in the glow of civilization. The cat hissed, eyes flashing up the stairs as it faded from view. Dean took a shaky breath as the pressure disappeared from his chest. He heard a voice thunder overhead, "You didn't hear that? Sounded like two animals were having a pissing match on your porch."

Another voice that Dean recognized as Jenny, the victims sister, cut through the sounds of the storm next. "You shouldn't go outside! You don't know what might be out there, especially after Katie disappeared!"

Dean hauled himself to his feet. He had no intention of being caught out here by anyone. At this size, he couldn't protect himself from anything, and he had no way of calling Sam for help if they decided to capture him against his will. Still limping, he ran toward the side of the stairs. He hopped between two rocks that circled the small garden, passing through it as fast as he could. Massive footfalls sounded from above his head, shaking the ground around him. Panic struck him for a moment, remembering how it had felt when Sam's foot had landed so close to him, and unlike Sam, these people had no idea he was there. And there was no way for him to know if they'd be hostile to him.

Spotting a gap in the stone steps, Dean ducked inside. Darkness wrapped around him as he huddled against the wall, braced against falling. He could still hear them out there.

"Ken, come back inside! You're going to catch your death out there!"

"Yeah, Kenny, go back inside," Dean muttered, flattening himself against the rock as far as he could. He wished that his hiding spot was more than a little crack in the wall. If they came around the stairs, it would be easy to spot him.

The footsteps came closer to where Dean was hiding. Tiny rocks on the ground shook with each approaching THUD. "But I know I saw something out here."

Katie's reply was drowned out from Dean's hearing by a massive rumbling overhead. The storm still was not letting up, raindrops drumming a solid, staccato beat against the roof of the house. The footsteps slowed, then stopped not five feet from where Dean was ducked down. Dean peeked around the corner of the house, slow enough to not draw any attention to himself.

The man was standing there, a dark colossus against the stormy sky, scanning the ground. Dean checked what the man - Ken - was looking at, and saw the claw marks on the ground from where the cat had pinned Dean. In the mud, there was a small path, leading straight to Dean's hiding place. He cursed, digging himself into the rock as deep as he could. The footsteps thudded closer. That was an amature mistake, leaving a trail like that! Dean's heart sped up at his proximity to an unknown giant.

Right when he thought it was all over and he'd been discovered, the other giant, Jenny (who had been a lot cuter when she was shorter than him) thudded over to Ken. Grabbing his arm, she pulled him back to the steps. "Whatever it is can wait until the storm's over, Ken. You are coming back inside with me and that's final."

Dean let out a breath as the man let himself be led away. Sinking to a seat on one of the rocky protrusions in his alcove, Dean glanced around at his hiding spot. It didn't go too far back, but it was private. No mud or rain came in (except for what Dean had managed to track in himself) and the only other occupant was a tiny pale spider, no bigger than his hand. It was curled into a corner as far from Dean as it could get, and didn't look like it was going to come out anytime soon. Dean supposed that was as good survival plan as any when the raindrops falling outside were bigger than your whole body. A simple rainstorm became a powerful force of nature at this size.

He carefully stretched out his injured leg in the dry comfort of the hole, wincing when he saw how mud-caked his clothing was. With the pressure off the leg, his level of pain went down a lot. Fresh blood spots on parts of the leg signaled he'd reopened the wound during the storm. He sighed, knowing he'd have to get the bandage replaced yet again. There was no part of him that had made it out untouched by the mud. Using some of the rainwater that had found its way inside his hiding place, Dean scrubbed at his face, practically peeling off the mud. His hair was next while he waited for the storm to abate.

It took another ten minutes, but the rain started to slow. The thunder still boomed overhead, drowning out Dean's thoughts with each rumble. The sky started to lighten as the clouds dispersed, the last rays of the sun slashing through the gloom. Dean carefully poked his head out the opening, checking the area. The cat was still gone, which he prayed would stay that way. He only had a few salt rounds left in his jacket. He needed to make every shot count until Sam found him. Now that the storm was over, he had to find a way to get ahold of his brother again.

Taking a few steps out from safety, he scanned the area as he went. He could still hear voices coming from inside the house, close to where he was. They weren't loud enough for him to make out any of the voices or who was talking. He hesitated when the stairs over him started to shake again. Backing towards the small hiding place again, Dean tried to see over the steps. From this angle, all all he could make out was shadows and shapes. The door above opened and slammed shut, massive footfalls shaking the ground around Dean again. He was briefly knocked on his ass from the force, scrambling to get up.

He darted back under his alcove in the steps, not wanting to make it too easy for them to spot him. For a moment, he thought he heard a voice talking, but a boom of thunder from the diminishing storm drowned it out like Katie's earlier. Tiny rocks danced on the ground each footfall. He hid against the wall as a shadow fell over his hiding place. The giant had come back. He _knew_ where Dean was hiding! Dean pulled out his silver knife, unwilling to be captured without putting up a fight. He tensed as he saw the shadow of a hand approach...

* * *

><p><strong>AN**

We are officially all caught up, so the next part will go up next Saturday, and I'll update on Saturdays from here on out.

Also, I'm going into hiding until the next chapter's up, just remember if I don't make it to next week, you don't get to find out what happens!

All comments and reviews greatly appreciated, I'd love some feedback!


	9. Found

Less than five minutes into Sam's drive back to the house, his phone went off. Fumbling to pull it out, he accidentally swerved the car off the road for a moment. He could almost hear Dean bitching about his lack of driving skills. Rain was starting to patter against the windshield. Praying the call was from Dean, he answered it without looking, unable to check his Caller ID and keep his eyes on the road. "Hey."

_"Hey Sam, hope I didn't catch you at a bad time," _Bobby's voice came over the line.

It wasn't Dean. Fighting back despair, Sam managed to answer Bobby. "N-not really, just having a bad day."

_"What happened?"  
><em>  
>"It's, it's Dean. The curse hit again and he disappeared, right in front of me. I couldn't get to him in time..." Sam briefly choked up, still too upset about his failure.<p>

Bobby picked up on it, naturally. _"Sam, from what I can see, you couldn't have stopped it from happening anyway. This curse would have got him one way or the other. Do you know where he is?"_

"I know where he was. He gave me a call, and before it got disconnected he said he was at the house the girl disappeared from. But," Sam peered out the window, "it just started to storm, and it's pretty bad. It's gonna take me at least another 15 minutes to get there, and he's all alone. I'm worried, Bobby."

_"There's nothin' you can do but hope Dean holds on 'till you get there, so stop fretting. He can handle himself better'n any hunter I know, so if anyone can beat that witch at her own game, it's Dean. Anyway, I called because I might have found a cleansing ritual that might do the trick."_

Sam sat straight up at this. "Really?"

_"Yeah, it won't break the curse, but it'll make it so Dean can take the ring off. Once you manage that, burning the thing will break the curse and banish the witch."_

"That's great." Sam listened to Bobby outline the details of the ritual, committing it to memory. Once he was sure he had it down, he said his goodbyes and hung up, wanting to concentrate on his driving. He sped the Impala up more, hoping to close the distance to the house in record time.

The storm at this point was in full swing, lighting arcing across the sky and lighting up the cloud-darkened sky. The rain was constant, washing over the car in a steady sheet. A full ten minutes of this stress riddled hell, and Sam finally pulled up to the house. He frowned when he saw a red Honda parked where the Impala had been yesterday. If there were people at the house, they might have seen Dean, and if anyone had spotted Dean... he pushed the thought out of his mind. Worrying would do his brother no good. Parking behind the Honda, Sam grabbed the fake ID he'd used the other day in town and walked up to the door.

He rang the doorbell. After only a moment, the small redhead from the other day, Jenny answered it. Sam spotted a man behind her he recognized as Katie's boyfriend, Ken. Her eye's widened when she saw him. "Hi! You're Agent... Wylde... right?"

"Yes ma'am, my partner and I are still on your sister's case."

The look she gave him was piercing. "Have you made any headway finding her?"

Sam glanced around at the rain that was still drenching him and back to her. "Uh, if you don't mind...?"

"Oh!" Her hand flew to her mouth. "I'm so sorry! Come right in, of course!" She backed away from the entrance, giving him room to come in.

He stood dripping in the entryway, glad he hadn't stepped in any mud. Bad enough what he was about to do, he didn't want to ruin the floor with mud to top it all off. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but we are still investigating here, and since this may be the scene of a crime, I'm gonna need you both to vacate the premises for at least another 24 hours." He gave her the most sympathetic look he could pull off.

"Oh," her demeanor slumped. "We were just hoping to find something here that might tell us what happened... We're not going to get in trouble for being here, are we?"

"No, of course not. I'm just sorry it has to happen in the middle of a storm."

The man behind her, Ken stepped up at this. He stood in a way Sam assumed was supposed to be intimidating, if Sam didn't have almost a full foot of height over him, not to mention Ken was a scrawny little guy. "Why does it have to happen during a storm? What can you possibly hope to find in this mess?" Ken crossed his arms with a glare.

"Well, I'm not at liberty to discuss any leads outside the bureau yet, but I need this house vacated now. After all, the law never rests." Sam met Ken's gaze evenly. Ken broke away first, shuffling back from Sam. "Now, just to check, have you seen anything... weird here today?"

Jenny gave him an odd look. "No, unless you count some cat screeching out by the porch during the storm. It's all been normal, otherwise. We've just been going through her stuff the last few hours."

"Alright, I'll be in touch with you later, as soon as we have more information. Take care." Sam walked to the back porch while they gathered up their belongings to go. Didn't sound like they'd seen Dean, but hearing about that cat... Sam felt a little of his earlier fear creep back in. He might already be too late if the cat had been here. It only seemed to appear when it had someone to go after. Like Katie. Like Dean.

He stepped onto the porch as the storm broke, rain lessening to a mist for the moment. The sun's rays sliced through the gloom, illuminating the yard. It all seemed normal at first glance. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a small dash of movement next to the steps he was on. Color where there shouldn't be color. "Dean?" He called softly, not wanting Jenny and Ken to overhear. The last thing he needed to worry about was other people seeing his helpless brother. Thunder rumbled overhead. He walked carefully over to where he'd seen the movement last, watching his step. Dean was small enough to be easily overlooked if he wasn't careful. He couldn't afford to let his guard down.

Kneeling down by a tiny crack in the wall, Sam reached out to where he'd last seen the movement. Right when his hand reached the hole in the wall, he saw a tiny knife strike out before he could react, slicing into his finger. "Ow!" he cried in surprise. Instinctively enveloping the tiny, stab-happy figure in a fist, Sam pulled him quickly up to eye level. "Dude, what the hell?"

No response came. Surprised at this, since he usually got a snappy comeback, Sam took a good look at Dean. The tiny hunter's eyes were scrunched closed, pain contorting his features. Sam realized then how tight his fist was clenched around Dean. He could feel his brother's tiny body struggling uselessly in his grip, unable to budge even one of the fingers crushing him with his little arms and legs. _Shit, shit, shit..._panicked, he carefully opened his fist, releasing Dean gently onto his outstretched palm. Unable to remain standing, Dean collapsed in place, legs buckling. He curled into a ball in the center of the palm with both arms wrapped around his midsection, groaning.

At that moment, feeling Dean's lightweight body collapsed and shaking uncontrollably on his palm, it hit home exactly how small and defenseless his brother was, even against him. Dean had always seemed so sturdy, it was hard to remember how easy it was to hurt him now. A moment of thoughtless action, and Dean was in so much pain he couldn't even stand up. Some brother he was. He should've paid more attention to Bobby.

_Good going, asshat. You KNOW how easily he can get hurt right now,_ Sam silently berated himself. He reached a finger carefully towards Dean, then thought better of it when he saw his brother recoil. Lowering his hand, he asked, "Dean? Are you ok... did I..." _smoosh your guts...?_ finished his mind, taunting him as his voice trailed off. He couldn't bring himself to say it out loud.

Dean tried to pull himself to his knees, but he couldn't make it all the way up. Sam leaned in closer, wishing he could do more to help. His stupid big hands prevented him from being able to do _anything_ to really help Dean.

Dean held up a tiny hand to Sam, freezing him in place. "M'm fine, Sam," he said in a weak voice, "just... give me a minute. Ok?"

Sam nodded silently in response, swallowing nervously. Noticing the rain starting to pick up again, Sam cupped his free hand protectively over his brother's small form. Dean flinched instinctively from the movement above him, eyeing Sam's hand skittishly. Sam felt his heart break at the fear in Dean's eyes. The last thing he wanted to do after everything was scare his brother more. He didn't lower the hand though, knowing it was for the best. The raindrops were _huge_ compared to Dean. One slipped by Sam's protective hand and hit, causing the small hunter to cry out and shudder in pain.

Now that Dean was partially uncurled, Sam caught sight of four tiny, fresh blood spots on his jeans, matching the bite marks from his injuries the night before. The blood showed brightly even through the caked mud that coated him head to toe. He was filled with guilt at the thought that he might have made the injury worse. Sam felt himself choke up, knowing he'd hurt his big brother. _Some brother I am._

It didn't take Dean long to get over his fear. Sucking in a deep breath of air, he pulled himself shakily to his feet, keeping one arm slung over Sam's thumb for support. He kept his other arm wrapped around his midsection, still hunched over. Meeting Sam's eyes, "we'll just have to count that as your one freebie, alright?" Dean said, trying to joke. His voice was hoarse, breaking the light mood he was attempting.

Sam gave Dean a tiny smile at the joke. He was surprised after everything Dean had gone through the last few years he still remembered that punch he'd insisted Sam owed him. "Are you ok? Did I... d-did I break any bones?" His voice caught in his throat, barely able to get the words out.

Dean attempted to straighten up. "No, nothing's broke. Just bruised... so... let's not... do that again, ok?" Trying to stop wheezing, he ended up in a coughing fit, slipping back down to his knees again for a moment.

"Dean, I am so, so sorry..."

"Sam, s'ok. I'll be fine." Dean stared straight into Sam's eyes. "But you totally owe me a weeks' worth of pie after this, dude." With that, he straightened fully. "'Sides, it's my fault. If I hadn't cut you, this wouldn't have happened."

"Why did you attack me, anyway? Didn't you hear me calling you?"

"No, couldn't hear anything over the thunder. And, I thought you were that guy... Ken? He might have spotted me earlier during the storm, thinking I was an animal or something. I was right outside the porch, over where the ground's all torn up," he waved towards the path.

Sam followed the gesture with his eyes, brows raising as he took in the ripped up lawn by his feet. He followed the tiny mud trail to where he'd found Dean. Even from where he was standing he could make out the tiny boot tracks in the mud. "Was it the cat?" He asked softly, remembering the mention of fighting animals by Jenny and Ken.

"Yep." Dean said with a slight nod. "Almost got me, too. If they hadn't come out to check what was going on, I'd be kitty kibble. But still, that left me with that Ken guy searching the yard for me. Which was why I ended up hiding under the stairs, it was the only place to duck under that I could reach fast. He almost found me, he was only a few steps away from my hiding spot, at most. Right before he found me, Jenny stopped him from searching the yard. She told him to wait till the storm was done to go outside. And, since the storm was over, I thought you were him, come back out to finish searching. I wasn't about to get captured without a fight."

Sam cocked an eyebrow down at Dean skeptically, taking in his height. "So you thought it was a better idea to attack the 100 foot giant?"

"Hey, I might have had better ideas before, but if I'm goin' down, I'm goin' down swinging." Dean gave Sam a wan smile. "And maybe he would have left me alone after that."

"I doubt it. Your lucks never been that good. Even before we smashed all those mirrors on that one case."

"Hey, you smashed more than me. So come share some of this bad luck already."

Sam laughed at that, happy his brother sounded back to normal, at least. "Yeah, I think your counts off there. Keep your bad luck away from me, ya jinx." He sobered up for a minute. "What happened with the phone, when the call dropped out, anyway?"

Dean shuffled his feet slightly, appearing disheartened. "I guess I didn't have a good enough grip on the phone while we were talking. It got knocked out of my hand when I got hit by a raindrop - did you see the size of them? And then it fell into this giant mud puddle. By the time I dug it out, it wouldn't turn on anymore." He sighed. "It's awesome, you know, being small enough that _rain_ can make you its bitch."

Sam gave him a sympathetic look. "Well, we should have you back to normal soon. I got a cleansing ritual from Bobby that should let us remove the ring from you and burn it." He carefully lowered the hand holding Dean down, keeping the other hand suspended over him. He brushed his foot over the ground, wiping out any trace of the miniature boot prints from Dean. They didn't need anyone else putting two and two together.

"Here, I'm gonna put you in my pocket, at least until we get back to the motel. You'll be safer in there, after... uhhh... you know. And, you won't have to worry about the rain." Sam gave Dean's tiny figure a good once over. He'd never seen anyone so completely coated in mud before. It was like he'd been swimming in a mud bath. "Oh, and your phones already in the pocket... I didn't want to risk losing it, and it was the only safe place I could come up with."

All Sam got in response was a curt nod. No argument, no bitching, no complaints. Completely anti-Dean. Pushing his worry down, he carefully lowered Dean into the pocket, keeping hold of him until the last second. He didn't want to risk exasperating Dean's injuries even more. He felt his brother's slight frame slip from between his fingers, landing safely at the bottom. Once Dean was tucked away, he went back to the Impala.

While he was walking he gently cupped his hand over the still-shaking body in his pocket, so Dean didn't get bumped around this time. He was already shaken up enough. Sam felt a tiny, reassuring pat against his hand once it was settled around the little form. He couldn't stop a small smile from crossing his face at that. The shaking slowly dwindled with his hand there until it stopped completely. Some if the tension left Sam once he felt Dean relax. He grabbed the keys with his other hand.

They needed supplies if they wanted to pull off this cleansing ritual.

* * *

><p>Dean slipped down in the pocket once Sam's fingers released him. After everything he'd been through, he didn't have enough energy left to even try to attempt standing in the swinging pocket yet. He slumped down fully, happy to finally be somewhere warm and safe after living through that storm. And dry, even though he was getting the pocket muddy just by being there. He still hadn't managed to stop shaking completely, from the sheer adrenaline rush he'd been living with for the last hour, but it was starting to get better.<p>

And, even after his own brother almost crushing him, Dean knew he was safe there. The magnified guilt he saw in Sam's eyes every time they fell on him now showed how awful Sam felt. If Dean had known who was there... if he had been able to check outside before defending himself with his knife... none of this would have happened. And he knew he probably would have reacted the same way as Sam if he was the one who was stabbed. Both of them had trained their reflexes so well that stopping a threat (or your 3 inch tall brother who'd just stabbed you) was an instinctive reaction. But damn, did his ribs hurt.

He had to remember that Sam hadn't even technically grabbed him that hard, compared to what he could have done by accident with Dean this small. He could have crushed bones just as easily as he'd bruised ribs, without ever meaning too. So there was something to be thankful for.

He already knew from experience nothing was broken, otherwise he would have been in far more pain. Still, he had to take shallow breaths to keep the pain to manageable levels. And he would probably get some spectacular bruising patterns. Once he was settled against the corner of the pocket, it was far better, taking some of the pressure from standing off. _Can't wait to get back to normal size... can't stand how weak this whole situation is making me feel... this is all so fucked up._

He was pulled from his thoughts when a massive weight wrapped gently around the pocket from the outside. Realizing it was just Sam's hand, he relaxed. _He's trying to make sure nothing else happens to me..._ Dean couldn't help but grin at the thought. No matter what, he always had his brother's support. And right now, the support was literal. He patted against the wall of Sam's hand that surrounded him, hoping to let Sam know how much he appreciated everything he was doing for Dean. Without Sam, he'd be so much worse off. With the hand there, the bumps and swinging he remembered from earlier were non-existent, and the ride much smoother and less nausea-inducing. He was able to relax completely.

Once he felt Sam sit down, the comforting weight disappeared from outside the pocket and he heard the Impala's rumbling purr start up. Dean sat up, thinking back. Remembering something Sam said before being put in the pocket, he dug around the bottom for a few minutes. With his luck, if he left his phone in the pocket it wouldn't grow back with him when they broke the damn curse. Fat lotta good that would do him. In the opposite corner from where he was sitting, he found his tiny cell phone buried in the pocket lint. Brushing off the lint, he checked the battery. Still 25% left. Hopefully, he'd be big again before it died completely. He didn't want to go without his phone again in this nightmare world.

Tucking the phone back where it belonged in his pants, Dean pulled himself to a standing position. Now that Sam was sitting, it was far easier to do so without falling. He pushed the flap of the pocket up and tried to lean out. "Hey, Sam!" He called out, unable to see anything but the huge steering wheel and dashboard of his baby from his point of view, with both Sam's hands gripping the wheel.

"Yeah?" The huge voice echoed around him. So weird. One of the hands on the wheel rose towards the pocket. Dean slipped back down for a moment in surprise. The sheer size of Sam's hands still caught him off guard on occasion. Sam simply pushed up the flap of the pocket so Dean wouldn't have trouble seeing out. Standing up fully, Dean was able to hook his arms around the edge of the pocket, keeping his weight off the injured leg. It was starting to throb worse with the dirty, wet bandages clinging to it.

He glanced up at Sam, but all he could see was the underside of his brother's chin from his vantage point. "What's the plan, anyway?" Dean couldn't help being curious, now that he'd recovered. He remembered Sam mentioning something about a way to stop the curse before putting Dean in the pocket.

"Well, Bobby gave me a cleansing ritual while I was on my way to the house. The curse itself is too strong to break like that, but it should let us take the ring off you. Once the ring's off, all we need to do is bury it in salt, and burn it. That should put the witch and her familiar back to rest and put you back to normal." Sam tilted his head down briefly to be able to look Dean in the eye. "We'll need some supplies first."

"What kind of supplies?"

"Mistletoe. Turns out that we need to boil a pot of water, mistletoe and some of your hair with an incantation I got from Bobby, and then all you have to do is put your hand in the steam coming from the pot. Apparently, that should suspend whatever is sealing the ring to your hand. After that, you should be able to take off the ring long enough to burn it."

"Sounds great," Dean said thoughtfully. "What's the catch?" There was no way this would all be solved so easily.

Sam laughed, the sound echoing around Dean in a strangely comforting way. "We're also going to need oak logs for the fire, from the witch's tree. Which means, we have to go back to the house. And she's probably not going to be too happy with us when we start hacking apart her tree."

"Super." Dean slumped back down into the pocket, hating the sound of that. "So where do we find mistletoe in the middle of summer?"

"We passed a greenhouse on our way into town the other day. They should have some there, no problem." Sam glanced back down at the pocket, noting Dean had vanished from sight. Carefully hooking his fingertip around the lip of the pocket, he pulled it open to briefly reveal the strange sight of his brother sitting slouched at the bottom. "But first we're going to stop back at the motel, take care of your leg."

"I'm fine," Dean said, warding off his giant brother's gaze. "Once we get rid of this witch, you can fix me when I'm normal."

Sam frowned down at his brother, briefly taking in the sight of Dean's outstretched leg, mud and blood still caking it in a layer of grime. "Yeah, I don't think so. You've already gone through enough and the last thing we need is you getting worse." Sam let go of the pocket, knowing this was one argument Dean would never win. He felt a small tap against his chest from where Dean was sitting and smiled, knowing that was Dean's best attempt at a punch right now. He patted the pocket gently for revenge and grinned widely at the muffled curses that slipped out between his fingers. All directed at him, naturally. It _was_ fun to mess with Dean when he didn't have to worry about any payback. At least for the moment.

* * *

><p>A few hours later, Sam was hunched over the door to the greenhouse, working on picking the lock. Dean was standing on his shoulder, hand braced against his neck for balance, keeping a lookout for anyone in the area. Especially any cops patrolling. The last thing they needed today was to deal with Sam getting chased down or locked up for breaking and entering. If that happened there was no way for them to hide Dean unless he split up from Sam, and there was no way he was separating from his brother. It was far too dangerous.<p>

The last time he'd done this, he'd been able to stand next to Sam. Yet despite everything, it felt refreshingly _normal_ to be able to keep watch again. Although, he couldn't help but be surprised that Sam had gone along with letting him be the lookout. Sam had originally wanted him to stay in the pocket for the entire time they were at the greenhouse. It had taken a lot of arguing on the way over to get Sam to agree his plan, but the last thing Dean wanted to do was sit this out, stuck in a pocket. Honestly, he thought Sam had given in partially to just shut him up.

He figured it was the least Sam could let him do, considering how he'd lost the argument about going back to the motel room. Funny how being three inches tall meant you had a hard time winning _any _arguments. It wasn't like he had any way to stop Sam from returning to the room, and when it came to stubbornness, Sam was easily his equal.

They'd stopped there long enough for Dean to begrudgingly peel most of the mud off of him, and Sam had cleaned and wrapped his leg for the third time, joking about how they didn't have to worry about using up all the gauze so long as Dean was stuck small. Now, Dean was semi-clean and mostly wet, but his leg didn't hurt anywhere near as much, and his ribs were feeling much better. He'd die before admitting Sam had been right about the whole thing, but he was secretly pleased he could finally move without his leg throbbing at every little shift in weight.

Standing on the shoulder gave him a good view of the street. The greenhouse stood alone next to a hill, but up and down the rest of the street there were small shops, each with a light lit above the entryway. Darkness closed around the rest of the area. So far, not a single car had passed by. Most people wouldn't be out and about at this time of night, especially after the storm.

Hearing the lock of the door click open, Dean turned back to what Sam was doing. He grabbed onto the collar of Sam's jacket right before his brother stood, air rushing by him. The feeling he got in his stomach every time the ground dropped away like that made him feel queasy. Once Sam was standing straight, he was almost at his old eye level, another small point towards 'normal.' Dean gripped tighter too the collar, remembering that unlike when he was at his full 6'1 height, if he fell here, it would be a plummet straight down a sheer cliff, hoping Sam could catch him before he hit the ground.

Sam slowly opened the door, pulling out his flashlight as they stepped into the thick, humid air of the greenhouse. The flashlight slowly played over rows and rows of plants, reflecting off the glass that surrounded them on all sides. The room gave off an aroma of life, of things green and growing that almost wrapped around them in the thick, humid air.

"So, do you know what you're looking for?" Dean asked as he braced himself against Sam's neck, trying to get a good look at the room from his vantage point.

"Yeah. I read up on it while I was waiting for you back at the motel room. It needs to grow on another plant, say an apple tree. So we have to check for a tree with a green plant on its branches, with small white berries. We just need a sprig for the ritual." Sam walked slowly into the greenhouse. Uneasily, Dean drew out his own flashlight, tightening his grip on his brother's jacket. The way most of the walls were transparent was making him edgy. The way the light reflected off them prevented him or Sam from seeing out, but anyone outside could easily see in. He felt exposed, the hair on the back of his neck prickling at how easy they could be spotted.

Sam crossed into a larger area, long legs taking them through the rooms quickly. The center was made up of a small pool, with a little waterfall flowing into it. Trees framed the pool on each side, with flowers growing in between. The pathway Sam was walking down turned into a small bridge over the stream.

"Huh," Dean said. "Nice digs, if you're a plant."

"Yeah, I'll say." Sam flicked the light around the area, then stopped it on one of the trees. "There, that's mistletoe up on that branch."

Dean took in the view. "That's pretty high up." The branch the mistletoe was on hung above the pool, a good ten feet in the air. The tree was very slim, and small.

"Great," Sam muttered. He circled around the pool, climbing up some of the rocks behind the waterfall. Dean clung desperately to his shoulder, wishing he could have gotten off before this part. Sam's arm fell just half a foot short of the mistletoe, fingertips stretching out uselessly. "Maybe they have one of those branch trimmers laying around."

He wandered through the greenhouse, checking around for hedge clippers. Coming up empty, Sam returned to the center greenhouse. For a few moments Sam stared down the tree. "There's gotta be a way," he muttered.

Dean spoke up for the first time since they found the mistletoe. "...you could just put me up there. I can cut some free, no problem."

Sam reached his hand up to Dean, scooping his big brother easily into his palm so he could look Dean in the face. "Dean, you hate heights."

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, but I hate being shrunk more. I can do this."

"Nah, I've got a better idea than you having a panic attack on a teeny tiny branch." Before Dean could protest, Sam bent down to let Dean off his hand. Dean craned his neck back in order to see Sam's face, but couldn't make anything out past the flashlight. All he could see of his brother was the massive feet standing near him and the glow of the flashlight illuminating the ground around him.

He shielded his face with his arm against the light. "What's the plan?"

"Gonna try climbing the tree next to it, I should be able to reach the mistletoe from there." Sam's voice came down from the dark. The boots stepped away from Dean, leaving him alone in the dark by the path.

Dean switched his own flashlight on, illuminating the rocks under his feet. The dark felt a little less oppressive once the light was on, lighting up his surroundings. He watched the bobbing beam of Sam's flashlight as his brother went around the waterfall again, briefly vanishing from sight while Dean's eyes adjusted to the dark.

Once Sam was standing over there, since the light was no longer illuminating Dean and blinding him, he was able to make out Sam in the dark, enough to see what he was doing. After a few moments of consideration, Sam pulled himself up on the tree right next to the mistletoe branch. It was thick enough to support his weight without collapsing. Sam reached over, his arm still falling short of the branch. Carefully, he leaned his weight to the side, making the tree he was clinging to bend slightly in the direction of the mistletoe.

Dean found himself holding his breath. As high up as Sam was, if the tree snapped under his ginormotron weight, he'd be looking at a fall 10 feet down onto either rock, or into a pond. And the last thing Dean could do at this size was catch Sam, or haul his soaking ass out of the pool. His fears were unfounded though. Sam's fingertips brushed against the mistletoe, snagging a small sprig and breaking it off. Sam dropped down from the tree, briefly landing out of Dean's line of sight behind the rocks. Dean let out a sigh that Sam was all right.

A few moments later, the light approaching far overhead and the floor shaking under his feet heralded Sam's arrival. The light landed on Dean, lighting up the ground around him. Dean shielded his eyes from the glare, trying to make out Sam in the dark, but had no luck. A boot hit the ground in the pool of light only a few inches away from Dean as Sam stepped up, almost knocking him over just from the force. God, how he hated that. Dean took a few steps back right before he was unceremoniously scooped up by a massive hand, still unable to see Sam. The ground dwindled beneath him too fast for comfort. It was far too close to flying for Dean, and he hated not being able to see Sam before he was picked up. Once the hand stopped moving, he found himself at eye level with Sam again for a brief second while his brother checked him over. Apparently Sam was satisfied with what he saw, since right after Dean found himself lifted back to his brother's shoulder.

"Did you get enough?" Dean asked curiously once he was settled and he'd recovered from his brief shock from being grabbed. He threaded his fingers through the collar of Sam's jacket once more. After everything they'd gone through the last few days he couldn't find it in himself to complain about being grabbed like that anymore.

Sam held the branch of green leaves with white berries bunched together at shoulder height for Dean to see. "Yeah, from what Bobby said, this should be plenty." He tucked the branch into his jackets inside pocket. "Time to go hack down a witches' tree."

"Yeah, what could _possibly_ go wrong there." Dean said sarcastically. Sam winced in agreement. This wasn't one of their better plans.

They went back out to the car, Sam sealing the door of the greenhouse behind them. Once back in the car with Dean safely tucked against his neck, Sam turned the Impala back in the direction of poor Katie's house.

They had work to do.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**

**I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I REALLY AM**

so...

Bro's are back together, Bobby has his amazing research-fu, and Sam has a plan. Dean's a little bit more damaged than earlier, but he's hanging in there! Sounds like any day at the office for the Winchesters!

And Sam owes Dean pie. A lot of pie.

Bright side, no real cliffhanger this week. I get a cookie :

Story will be wrapping up next week. I know, it's sad! This story was a ton of fun to write, and I'm glad everyone seems to enjoy it as much as me! I'm very sad that it's over. But have no fear, there will be an awesome new surprise the next week. Trust me. I got good things planned for you all.


	10. The Bonds That Bind

**A/N**

The end is here at last!

I'd like to thank everyone for the lovely reviews, you inspire me to keep writing! I know, it's sad for the story to end, but I will have a new story starting up next week, so stay tuned if you enjoyed this! There's more on the way!

* * *

><p>Less than forty minutes later, Dean was standing on the stone pathway in the backyard of Jenny's house. As it was the driest place they could find, Sam had decided to build the fire there. The light from the porch gave them enough light to be able to see what they were doing without the flashlight, which Sam had left to the side of the pathway. Dean watched as Sam made a thick circle of salt around him and the pile of ingredients for the ritual. To be on the safe side, Sam also made a smaller circle of salt just around Dean. So far they hadn't seen either the witch's spirit or the cat, but Dean doubted it would stay that way long.<p>

The wind blew ominously through the trees. Dean estimated it to be well past midnight, an unfriendly time of night. He couldn't stop from shivering slightly while he waited for Sam to finish setting up, still damp from the storm earlier, and the clouds overhead seemed to point to more storms on the way. The hoot of an owl echoed through the night and Dean put his hand on his gun, knowing he was small enough for a snack.

Once Sam was done, he straightened. "Alright, all we need now is the oak from the tree and we'll be able to do the cleansing ritual." He lifted the iron axe he'd taken from the Impala's trunk off the ground.

Dean scowled. This was his least favorite part of the plan. He had to stay put, safe and protected in the salt line while Sam took all the risk, infuriating the witch's spirit into attacking. There was no way she would stay behind the scenes when they did this. And Dean was sure the cat would be around, too. Which was why his other hand was firmly wrapped around his sawed-off, already loaded and ready. He only had two shots left of salt shells so he had to make them count.

Sam went up to the tree, grabbing one of the thicker branches near the bottom. They weren't going to waste their time chopping the whole thing down, all they needed was enough for a fire and the branches themselves should be able to do it. He sliced down with the axe, impacting the branch with a hollow _THUD_. And again, chopping almost all the way through.

Dean glanced away when the porch light suddenly flickered overhead. "Oh, no," he muttered, pulling out his flashlight. That was the last thing they needed. He saw Sam glance worriedly over in his direction. "I'm fine, keep going!" Dean yelled in his direction, hoping he was loud enough.

Sam must have heard, because he got back to work on the branches right away. With a third powerful swing, the branch snapped off, thudding into the ground. He started on the second branch quickly, not wanting to be away from Dean any longer than necessary.

The porch light flickered over Dean's head again when Sam started on his sixth branch. And then it went out. The yard was cast into complete darkness. Dean heard Sam swearing out of sight in the night. "Sammy! You ok?" Dean called out.

"Yeah, just missed the branch on that last swing."

Dean clicked on his flashlight, illuminating the salt ring around him. And stumbled back, swearing. The black cat was crouched down right outside the ring of salt, dual tone eyes reflecting the flashlight's glow back at Dean. Catching himself before he tripped out of the smaller ring around him, Dean froze, staring the cat down. Beyond the glow of his small flashlight, he could hear his brother walking closer, gravel crunching beneath his boots. Dean couldn't help but feel nervous that he couldn't see Sam at all now.

The cat growled at Dean, a low, rumbling sound that echoed in the night. With the growl, the wind whipped up with an unprecedented force. Out in the night, he heard Sam shouting his name "Dean!" He ignored his brother for the moment, barely able to keep on his feet from the power of the wind. He was powerless to do anything as he watched the two salt rings around him dissipating into the wind. Dean covered his eyes to block the salt grains from blinding him. The second he lowered his arm from in front of his face, he saw the cat leap at him, claws outstretched and death in its eyes.

Time seemed to slow. Dean stumbled back, hampered by his leg as he tried to pull his sawed-off up in time. Before he could get the gun up, a huge voice filled the yard. "DOWN!" Sam yelled. Dean hit the ground without a thought. A massive explosion sounded off, the cat fading into air as the salt from Sam's gun hit it. Salt sprayed across the ground inches away from Dean, thankfully missing his curled up form. A boot slammed into the ground barely an inch away from Dean. His eyes widened at the proximity, hauling himself back to his feet as fast as he could to get out of the way. He came to a sudden stop when another boot hit the ground on the other side of him, fencing him in.

"Ok, guess we're staying put," he muttered to himself, knowing Sam wouldn't hear him from this distance. Sam left him on the ground, panning the gun around the yard while he stood protectively over the tiny hunter.

It seemed they had a few moments peace. Sam grabbed the flashlight off the ground, and ran back to the tree. The branches he had cut off would have to do. He snapped them into smaller pieces as fast as he could until he had enough for a fire. In the distance, he heard his brother's tiny voice ring out, "Sam! Behind you!"

Sam whipped around right as the witch herself slammed him into the wall. His head bounced off the windowsill with a hollow thunk and he slumped to the ground.

Dean cursed as the witch advanced on him. He couldn't see if Sam was alright from where he was, but from the lack of sound or movement from his brother, it wasn't looking good. Belinda herself glared down at him as he approached, shrieking out_ "Mine, you shall never have him!"_ The moment she was close enough, he fired his shotgun, dispersing her for the moment. Hopefully that would keep both her and the cat away long enough.

He ran toward where he could see Sam's flashlight still shining from on the ground, against the wall of the house. "Sam!" He called out, hoping it would be that easy for his brother to rouse. No such luck. It took him over five minutes to cross the ground between them, dodging between blades of grass and mud puddles from the earlier storm. At one point the wind whipped up around him, making it hard to see past the rustling stalks of grass. The whole time he found himself praying to the air that the cat wouldn't come back, and there were no creepy crawlies between him and Sam. There were definite disadvantages to this size, and Dean had the feeling that he was getting the worst of them.

Reaching Sam at last, he ran past massive legs and arms splayed on the ground. From the look of things, Sam had hit the wall of the house head-first. He didn't stop running until he reached his brother's face, pressed against the garden mulch. Briefly, he stopped in front of Sam's mouth, almost as wide as he was tall. Keeping his mind off how weird this all was, Dean held his hand out to check if Sam was breathing. Thank God, he thought when he felt a steady breeze. Checking the rest of his brother, he cringed at the blood matting his brother's long hair, hoping that Sam didn't have a concussion. Growing desperate to wake him, Dean punched Sam's cheek, hoping that it would be enough to pull him out of dreamland. "Sam! Come on, this is no time to catch up on your beauty sleep!"

There was no response to anything he did. Concern overcame Dean. If he couldn't wake Sam up, there was no way for him to break this curse. He was too small to do anything with the equipment they had, or the branches for the fire. He'd end up dinner for a kitty cat, and he had no doubt Sam would soon follow, killed by either the witch, or downsized to catnip. _C'mon Sam, I can't do this without you!_ Going up to Sam's eyelid, he pulled it up and shone his flashlight into it. The hazel pupil was unresponsive and unmoving. "Sam!" He called again, snapping the eye shut. Dean punched Sam's cheek again, followed by a few kicks while he grew frustrated with his hopeless situation. He slumped down against Sam's cheek when it didn't work, despondent.

Shrieking laughter came from behind him. He turned around, hauling himself back to his feet and moving away from Sam. The witch was standing there, infuriated eyes glowing with satisfaction at the downfall of her antagonists. Dean managed to get his shotgun pointing at her right as she slammed her fist forward, hitting him with a psychokinetic blast backward, barely squeezing off his last shot of salt a second before being blown off his feet.

He slammed into something softer than glass this time as she dissolved from sight, his back ramming painfully against something solid. He groaned, holding his already bruised ribs as best he could. He'd be lucky if they weren't broke at this point. He rolled away from whatever he'd slammed into weakly, shuddering as his body yelled at him for its abuse. Without warning, the ground moved under him, a matching groan to his reverberating through his body, followed by what felt like an earthquake of motion. Confused, Dean tried to roll over to get his feet under him, clutching at the ground for support. _What the Hell is going on?_

As soon as he rolled over, he found himself staring into a massive, hazel eye, bigger than his head, squinting up at him, equally confused. Startled, Dean tried to scramble away, but his brothers' ginormous nose was in the way, blocking his path. Which was what he'd landed on when he'd been thrown. It wasn't the ground he was clinging too, it was Sam's cheek. And Sam was finally consciou_s. The impact from me being thrown against his nose must have woke him up,_ Dean thought to himself. _Finally_.

Sam still seemed baffled by the whole thing, the huge eye furrowing at Dean as it tried to focus on his way-to-close miniature brother. "Dean?" The name echoed around Dean, confusion shining through the vibrations from Sam's voice. Dean shivered at the eerie sensation. Dean tried to scramble away from the huge, hazel eye. A shadow covered Dean as Sam's fingers wrapped gently around him from behind, pinning Dean's arms and legs to his body, effectively trapping him. Sam plucked his miniaturized brother from his face, holding him far enough away to focus on. He frowned once he could see Dean, still blinking to clear his head. "Dude, what the hell are you doing on my _face?"_

"I got tossed here by the witch! Now put me down!" Dean tried to wriggle free of Sam's fingers, which were firmly clamped around him. They weren't crushing him this time, but it was definitely not the most comfortable position he'd ever been in, especially considering the burning pain his ribs were still in from earlier that night. He couldn't get any of his arms or legs to budge from the strong grip Sam had on him.

Unfortunately, his brother didn't appear to hear Dean's last words. The second Dean had reminded him about the witch, his attention slid from Dean to her. He was too busy peering around the yard, scanning for the witch to notice Dean's grumblings. There was still no sign of either her or the cat, so Sam took the opportunity to haul himself to his feet, only taking note of Dean's fear from the outraged shout he let out when Sam stood fully. _"Saaammm!"_ The tiny voice rang out in the night.

"Shit, sorry," he apologized. He'd forgotten Dean's fear of heights for a moment. He lifted up the hand still wrapped around the now pasty white, shaking Dean to his eyes, checking him over. "Did anything else get hurt when she tossed you?"

"No, I'm fine. But if you don't put me down this instant, I will make you regret it!" Dean gave Sam the most murderous glare he could dredge up while suspended in midair, doing his best not to ralph all over Sam's fingers. He tried unsuccessfully to free his arms again, still flustered from his imposed flight through the air.

Sam held in a snicker at the thought of his three inch brother trying to do _anything_ to him. It would be like taking on a dragon armed with a BB-gun. He felt guilt overcome him right after, remembering everything Dean had been put through the last few days and here he was taking advantage of the hunter's tiny size. The laughter faded before any sound left his lips. Dean deserved to let off a little steam. Not that he'd ever tell Dean that, the last thing Dean ever needed was any encouragement to bitch or complain. He did that enough as it was.

"Whatever you want, Dean." Sam lifted him back up to his shoulder. He wasn't going to leave his brother alone on the ground again. Once he felt his tiny brother scramble up and get settled, tiny grip tight against Sam's collar, Sam strode back over to where he'd left the oak branches quickly. He gathered them up as fast as he could, knowing there was only a little time before the witch made her reappearance.

Piling them in the walkway, he coated them with as much accelerant as he'd brought with them, hoping they'd catch fire even after the storm. At least it had been some time since the rain fell. He put the pot, already filled with the mistletoe and water, overtop the piled branches, balancing it carefully.

"Okay, your turn." He scooped his brother up once more and stretched the hand Dean was in over the pot. Dean peered over the edge of Sam's hand, still nervous at the height. Sam watched his brother cut off some of his hair and drop it into the pot. Drawing his hand back to his chest and cupping his hand around Dean protectively, he pulled out a lighter. Once the fire was lit, he stood up and took a careful step back as the flames roared into sight.

Dean grabbed onto Sam's thumb at the sight of the massive flames dancing in the night. He loved a good fire as much as the next person, but it was another thing altogether seeing a fire larger than a house start up. The heat alone pushed at him, making him start sweating in the chill night air. He relaxed a little when Sam took a step away from the flames, giving him some distance from the hungry flames.

They stood like that, waiting for the pot to start to boil in the cool night air. The wind died down completely, casting the entire yard around them in a stark, nerve-wracking silence. It was too quiet. It had been at least ten minutes since the witch had reared her ugly head last, and Dean started to grow anxious. There was no way it would be this easy.

The pot started to boil, slowly. A heated haze rose from the pot, distorting the air behind it. "Ready?" Sam asked, glancing down at Dean.

"As I'll ever be," he said, pushing himself away from Sam's chest. The hand moved him over the boiling pot, fingers arcing up around Dean. He leaned over the edge, with his arm wrapped tight around a thumb. He held his hand out over the pot, letting it take in the heat from the boiling water. Dean could feel himself starting to sweat, drops of water beading along his forehead.

As his hand took in the heated air, the ring burned hotter still. Dean shielded his eyes as it started to glow, bright light from the diamonds lighting up the air around him. The ring reached an all-time high temperature, searing his finger when suddenly...

...It stopped.

Out of nowhere, a heavy weight dropped into his arms, almost dragging him over the side of the hand from its sudden appearance. Dean threw himself backwards right when Sam gasped, flexing the huge fingers around Dean protectively. The hand yanked Dean back to Sam's chest, fingers relaxing around him once he wasn't suspended over the boiling water anymore.

Safely out of danger, Dean stared in surprise at the item in his arms. The ring was now the size it had been when he'd first found it, almost a third his current height and heavy. Inside, on the center band he could see an elegant inscription:

_With this ring, I thee bind, these two souls, forever mine._

"She used the ring to bind Richard to her." Dean said, shocked. "So, when we destroy it..."

"It won't just break your curse, it'll free Richard." Sam finished in a whisper, with the same surprise in his eyes. He reached for the ring Dean was holding.

Dean twisted frantically away, barely able to avoid the huge, grabbing fingers without falling off the flattened palm. He clutched the ring tightly to his chest. "No way! We are not risking you shrinking down with me, gigantor!"

"Dean, I'll be alright. The curse is suspended for the moment, remember?" He smiled down at his tiny, overprotective brother, secretly touched by Dean's obvious concern. Dean looked ready to start a fight with the huge hand hovering in his airspace in order to protect Sam. Typical Dean. "Besides, I don't want you getting that close to the fire while you're small." He reached towards it again, slower this time, to give Dean time to prepare. He didn't want to startle the little hunter off his palm. Dean hesitated for a long moment before carefully placing it on the huge fingers stretched out in front of him.

The moment Sam's hand closed around the ring, Belinda reformed in front of them. This time, she only let out a hiss of anger, slamming her fist at Sam. He was thrown backward, cupping both his hands protectively against his chest over Dean and the ring as was he slammed against the oak tree with a groan. Crumpling to the ground, he spotted the iron axe near him. Unable to check on Dean, he dropped the ring in the same hand, wrapping his fingers gently around both his brother and the ring for the moment.

He scooped up the iron axe, holding it in front of him as the witch advanced. A yowl of anger came from his side, and he reflexively struck out, slicing through the cat the moment before it would have sliced into his calves. The cat faded into the night. Sam brought the axe back in front of him, stepping toward the witch. She held her hands out again, fingers held out like claws. He felt pain slice into his chest, almost like she was gripping his lungs, squeezing till they burst. He barely kept on his feet, forcing one step after another in her direction. "Ahhh," he moaned, as the pain increased two-fold.

Before he collapsed, he managed to sweep the iron through her, dispersing her to nothingness once more. Shuddering at the pain's release, he opened up the fist he was still holding his brother in. Dean was crumpled next to the ring, unmoving. Sam nudged him softly with a thumb. "Dean?" He called out. No response. Pushing down his fear, he grabbed the ring, cupping his hand gently around Dean for protection. This needed to end NOW.

Going back over to the fire, he spread the last of the salt over the flames and tossed the ring on top. He stood guard, waiting for it to heat up enough to melt. Time passed slowly, fire crackling away. Right when he saw the ring start to melt, the witch appeared again, shrieking her agony at him. A moment before she was able to hit him, fire consumed her, spreading into the night. Sam let out a deep breath of air.

Hearing something come from behind, he turned. A man was standing in front of the oak tree, smiling. Sitting by his feet was the cat, casually cleaning its paws. The man spread his arms into the air, closing his eyes as he took in the freedom. _Thank you,_ Sam heard a baritone voice echo in his mind. The sun peeked up over the horizon, consuming the form of Richard in a burst of light. The same way Molly had faded away after letting go. Before the cat vanished as well, it caught Sam directly in its gaze. In that look he could sense how thankful it was that he had stopped it from harming anyone else, and how sad it was for the lives that had been taken. Then it too was gone, fading into the light of the sun. Sam blinked away tears at the edge of vision. To be trapped so long... The agony Richard must have suffered all these years, unwillingly bound to the earth by the ring. And the agony the cat had suffered, torn unnaturally from the afterlife to kill and maim on a moment's whim.

Sam felt the tension leave his body at the end of their threat. He went to turn down to Dean, right before he felt a huge weight slam him down to the ground. Groaning, he tried to move his arms, which were pinned with the rest of him. A ripping noise came from his jacket. Pulling his head up, he realized Dean, no longer fun-sized, had collapsed on top of him. Carefully, he shoved his brother's body off, noticing a now normal-size pair of girl shoes sticking out of the shredded remains of his jacket pocket. "Huh, guess everything gets turned back when the curse is broken."

Once freed, Sam went over to Dean. "You _have_ to be ok," he said, closing his eyes. At the end, he didn't know if he'd crushed Dean while the witch was tossing them around. He could have killed Dean by accident. The pain of that thought almost immobilized him for a moment before he got the strength to go to Dean. Carefully, he felt for a pulse first. It throbbed steadily under his fingers. A huge shock of relief went through him. Next, he pulled up Dean's shirt. His breath caught at the spectacular bruise pattern across Dean's entire torso, one he recognized _he'd_ caused when grabbing Dean earlier that night. He was filled with guilt at the pain his brother must have been in all night, yet he STILL trusted Sam with his life. None of the ribs were broken, luckily. Neither were the arms or legs, and Sam let himself relax a minute amount. Dean must have just been knocked out when they hit that tree.

He sat back, thankful their trial was over. "You know, this whole thing would be so much easier if you'd waited to grow back when we got to the hotel room." He smirked to himself at the joke.

* * *

><p>With a painful slowness, Dean felt himself returning to the waking world. A fog around his mind began to clear as he was pushed farther and farther away from sleep. Letting out a groan, he stretched out his arms. Bumping into a wood backing, he gave a start. Sitting up quickly, he gasped at the pain in his chest. <em>Right, bruised ribs. Forgot about those.<em>

His vision cleared up, and his surroundings made him gasp. It was their motel room. Their _normal sized_ motel room. He collapsed back against his pillow. "Thank God," he muttered, closing his eyes for a moment, taking it all in.

"Hey, don't forget to give your amazing brother credit," he heard Sam's voice cut across the rejoicing in his mind.

"Sammy?"

"I'm here," Sam said with a smile in his voice.

Dean turned his head toward his brother's voice. He closed his eyes thankfully when he saw Sam was the same size as him. "There's no place like home," he mumbled into his pillow.

Dean pulled himself up, swinging his legs off the bed. A momentary grimace passed across his face when a twinge from his leg reminded him of the pain he'd gone through to get here. He hid the look of pain as fast as he could, not wanting Sam to fuss over him anymore. It was too late though.

"Here, we should stitch up those bite marks now," Sam walked over, the med-kit already in hand. He sat in the bed across from Dean. "How's your ribs doing?"

"They're fine," Dean said, despite the agony he felt every time he took a breath.

Sam gave him the look that clearly said_ I know you're lying, but I'll let that pass for the moment._ Dean gave him a slightly guilty smile in response. Rolling his eyes at his brother's stubborn determination, Sam got out everything he would need to stitch Dean up. "So, what do you remember from the end last night?" He asked as he removed the now oversized gauze from the leg. Seeing Dean's wounds for the first time up close, he winced in sympathy pain. The size of the teeth that caused this were huge! Dean was lucky the rat hadn't bit down harder. As it was, they were deep, but still showed no sign of infection, a rare break for the brothers.

"I remember the ring suddenly got huge. Practically knocked me off your hand. Saw the inscription on the inside of it. Poor bastard, that Richard fellow. Stuck past the _Till death do us part._ That was one determined bitch, binding someone even in death. Then, nothing." He couldn't help taking in how happy he was Sam's fingers no longer stretched out longer than his body, overshadowing every move he made while binding his wound. He suppressed a shiver, which turned into a back spasm at the memory. The feelings of helplessness from the last few days hadn't left him yet.

"We got slammed against the tree by Belinda. I think you got knocked out from the shock." Sam looked down, his next sentence almost a whisper, "I thought I crushed you. You wouldn't respond when I tried to wake you."

Dean glanced up at Sam, feeling the pain in that sentence. His brothers expressive hazel eyes shone with a wetness Dean hadn't expected to see. "Well, you didn't. I'm back to normal, and once you stitch me back together, I'll be better than ever. 'Cause the awesome brother is back in town." He gave Sam his most overconfident smile, hoping to annoy Sam out of his depression.

Sam met his eyes, giving Dean a tiny smile. He continued on with his narrative once he had control of his voice again, "after that, I managed to get ahold of the axe. Blocked the witch and the cat, got the ring in the fire. After it was salted and burned..." He glanced up from the stitches, meeting Dean's eyes. "I saw Richard. Destroying the ring freed him, to wherever his spirit went. The cat too. It... hated that it tried to kill you. It never wanted to kill anyone."

Dean closed his eyes, glad. "Poor bastards didn't deserve what she put them through."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "Oh, and everything went normal sized with you. Girl's clothes, for one. Shredded my pocket when the shoes grew in it." He saw Dean smirking at his misfortune and glared back. "Bunch of bones, too. Scattered around the trees from nowhere. All those men killed back in the day. Cops are gonna have a field day once they go back to the house. They'll think some serial killer has been hiding out there or something."

Dean frowned. "Did we leave anything behind they could use to get us with?"

"No, wiped down the place before I dragged your fat ass back here. You need to cut down on the bacon cheeseburgers, dude."

"Yeah, and you're such a lightweight, Sasquatch." Sam snorted at that comeback, unimpressed.

Once Dean was all stitched back together, they both gathered their stuff from around the room. Dean scanned around the room before closing the door, remembering how different it all had been so recently. He pushed those memories out of his mind, grateful he could leave under his own power now.

He followed Sam out into the sunlight. "Oh, baby. I almost forgot!" He went over to his car, resting his head against the windshield.

From behind him, he heard Sam laughing. "Do you two need a room?"

"Don't listen to him baby, he doesn't understand us." Dean stayed like that for a few moments to spite Sam, then stood straight. Sam tossed him the keys, going around to the passenger side to get in. After getting in the car, he took a few more moments to enjoy the fact that he was looking down at everything again. Well, everything but Sam. Not to mention being able to reach the wheel and the radio without a problem.

Thinking of Sam, he cast a look over at his brother. "Sam, thanks," he said quietly. Sam met his eyes with surprise. "For everything. Without you, I'dve really been screwed these last few days." He clapped his hand on Sam's shoulder.

Sam gave him a slight smile, "Dean, you know I'd do anything for you." A cloud passed over his face, erasing the smile. "And I am so sorry you had to go through all that," he turned toward Dean, eyes deeply emotional. "Especially what I..." he trailed off, closing his eyes.

Dean rubbed Sam's shoulder reassuringly. "It wasn't your fault," he said quietly. Turning on the car, he pulled his hand away from Sam. Girly moment over, he revved up the engine, enjoying the feel of his baby for a moment. Before driving off, he gave Sam a look from the corner of his eye. "And dude, you still totally owe me a week of pie."

With Sam laughing next to him, they drove out of Indiana, to wherever the next case would take them.

All was right in the world.

**FIN**

* * *

><p><strong>AN**

Well, it has certainly been a long trip here. But at last, the ending of _An Ounce of Courage!_ Hopefully, Dean's going to get his pie now ~

Tons of action, worry, cats, Dean getting tossed about... everything you all expect from this story...

I hope everyone is as satisfied with it as I am... you're all inspirations to keep on writing! If you have time, leave a review, critique, comment, whatever. I'd love to hear feedback on how the story was, I'm always looking to improve!


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